Efflorescent Feelings
by Callek Darren
Summary: Despite Malik's angry feelings towards Altaïr, the young Dai is forced to call upon him for help in order to assassinate a public official in Jerusalem. Malik soon find's himself in a difficult situation when his curiosity goes to far. Yaoi warning
1. Chapter 1

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Only going to say this once, since well, everyone reads the first chapter...right? Well I do not own any of the characters except Malon Al Damon and a few side characters that will pop out of no where from time to time. They belong to Ubisoft, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me.

Notes before the story begins: The setting is 7 years after the Temple of Solomon incident, yet I am taking it as if this was Altaïr's second visit, to give Malik some reason to be angry still. I am aware that they get friendly to the point where Malik does not see Altaïr as the same person as back then in the temple, but hell this is a story, take it as you will.

Warnings: Later on there will be yaoi scenes, not to sure if there will be hardcore yaoi scenes yet, but there will be blood, gore and all that stuff. Fighting, language, and death. But you assumed that right? It is Assassin's Creed after all.

Pairings: Altaïr/Malik with brief mention of a slave master type of thing with Al Mualim/Altaïr, Al Mualim/Malik.

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><p>It wasn't a day any different than normal, yet Malik was treating it as if it was a day to be feared as he paced back and forth behind his desk. A carrier pigeon arrived on his window early this morning, sending news from Al Mualim that Altaïr was being sent to him. Of course, this is what the Dai had wanted. Four times, different Assassins had attempted to eliminate a single target by the name of Malon Al Damon. He had to send in for the best, despite how much this annoyed him. It had been nearly seven years since an incident took place where Altaïr had caused Malik to lose both his arm and his dear brother Kadar. He acted like a fool, and although he had been stripped down to a novice and forced to crawl back up to the top again, he had not won back the favor of the Jerusalem Dai. He may had won the favor of Al Mualim and everyone else, but he would not win back Malik's favor. There were some things you did not do, and allow one of your brothers in the brotherhood to be killed and injured such as Malik had, just to follow your own greed was one of them. At least, that was how Malik viewed it...<p>

The sound of the soft thud, and footsteps was heard, making Malik freeze. He quickly pulled out an unfinished map, inking his pen, and starting to work on it once again ignoring as Altaïr entered. He felt Altaïr's eyes staring at him, making him shiver slightly as he looked up.

"Ah."

That was all Malik could muster out of his mouth as he set his quill down. Altaïr gave him a knowing look, making him scrunch up his nose in annoyance. The assassin lowered his gaze, feeling the dislike radiate off of the Dai, as they locked eyes for a breif moment.

"You sent for me?" Altaïr questioned, wondering if it was a mistake that he had been sent. Having not been welcomed in the slightest, it was enough to make anyone wonder, even though he knew Malik already was still sour with him.

"Yes..." Malik said softly, turning his back to the other man, searching for a map, in his collection of them. It took a moment before he pulled out the right one, and let it unroll in front of them, taking a moment to scratch his cheek as he overlooked it, ignoring Altaïr's curious eyes as he nudged forward to look over the map as well. It was another few seconds before the Dai's finger shot out to point at a marking of a tower "This is the tower your target Malon Al Damon sleeps at night, if you have to, kill him while he sleeps. Do not give him the honor of dying on his feet, this man has killed four of our brothers, and seeks the blood of innocents for his daily tasks. Start tomorrow at dawn, search for his whereabouts, learn what you can from others about him, then return to me at midday and tell me what you have learned, then tell me your course of action, this man is no fool. He knows that the assassins are after his head, and he takes care in knowing that.

"He will kill you the moment he sees you, whether it be by his own hands, or the hands of his many Templar followers..." Malik looked up at Altaïr, and for a moment, Altaïr swore he could see a hint of worry in those dark globes. "Take caution, I do not want to have to add you to the death toll." Altaïr gave a small smile, lowering his gaze so that his hood covered his eyes, before he nodded, staring down at the map.

The next thing that happened, surprised even Malik later on. "Oh and, remove your hood when you enter that doorway. I would like to see your face when you enter _my_ bureau," Malik stated, turning his back to Altaïr once again, and walking away from the desk, tending to a plant in the corner.

Altaïr blinked, staring at Malik's back. He wanted him to what? Not even Al Mualim asked him to remove his hood, Al Mualim himself wore a hood! He furrowed his brows, puzzled, but did as he was asked, and slowly removed his hood from his head. He wasn't going to lie, but he felt naked without it, but he also wasn't going to disobey the orders of someone like Malik. Was Malik always this way with assassins? In his previous trips, he never remembered so, but maybe something had happened to make Malik want to see the assassins faces?

Malik slowly turned, and looked back at Altaïr, who only had one imperfection with his face, and that was the scar on the right side of his lip. It was strange for an assassin such as him to have only one scar on their face. "Good... You are free to do as you wish, let me know before you leave on your mission tomorrow morning," he stated, walking back to the desk, and starting on his map once more. He listened as Altaïr climbed up the wall after he pulled his hood back on, and vanished into the city. He let his quill drop once more, and flopped back into his seat as he sighed, rubbing his temples.

Why did he let that man get to him so much? And why did he tell him to remove his hood? The last thing he wanted to do was see Altaïr's face. Maybe it was to rid him of some comfort? It had to be it. He slouched in his seat, taking a hold of his stump of a left arm, cradling it close as he closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It wasn't long after, when sleep overcame him thrusting him into a dream. A sad dream of his brother being killed over and over again. One that always seemed to plague the young man.

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><p>Altaïr stood on top of a tower, looking over the city he had visited only once before. He knew Malik was still sore at him, even though he had repeatedly apologized, and tried to prove how sorry he was in everything he did. The glare he felt the man give him as he entered the Bureau only confirmed how much the other man hated him. But that slight worry he saw him give him was the thing that bothered him the most. Had Malik forgiven him? He couldn't tell, since at one point he was glaring, then the other he was worried. It troubled him not to know the answer. He plopped down on the wooden plank, letting his legs dangle below him as an eagle landed behind him.<p>

"Hello old friend," he said softly to the eagle, who hopped slightly closer to the assassin. Of course, he wasn't sure if this eagle had been the same one from his previous visit (It most likely wasn't) but the man saw himself in the eagle at times. He flew much like it as he dove down onto his prey striking them with such precision to leave them dead. No, he couldn't fly upwards to his dislike, but still, he thought of himself much like the bird. "I wonder if I'll ever win Malik's favor back?" he asked the bird as it started to preen it's feathers. "I think of him as such a dear friend, and brother, yet he stares at me with such cruel eyes..."

He looked down below, watching as a group of men walked down the alleyway, laughing and cheering rather drunkenly. They didn't seem to be causing any problems, only having a good time with one another. At moments like these he envied every day people. People who could go about making mistakes and not being punished so harshly for them. People learned from their mistakes, but Altaïr only got judged for his. Sure he was one of the highest ranked assassins in the brotherhood, but it didn't mean he had to like the fact that he couldn't get away with making a mistake every once in a while.

He dropped down, landing in a pile of hay, as he rolled out, only a old beggar man noticing him as he did so. The man seemed shocked by his feat of jumping down from the tower, that he didn't even bother running up and begging him for change. He felt his stomach growl as he passed by a house, which emitted the smell of freshly made bread. He was starving, as he should be from not eating since leaving Masyaf early that morning. He decided against returning to the bureau, in fear of seeing those angry eyes the Dai seemed to like giving him, and headed to the market to purchase some fruit to snack on. Not exactly an ideal lunch, but something that would hold him until he returned to Malik.

He paused, looking around as he entered the alley that was suppose to be the marketplace. Nothing was set up, no one was selling anything. Anyone who was down the alley was either a beggar, or a group of people trying to rush out of the bleak neighborhood. "Excuse me, where might I find the marketplace?" Altaïr asked to a elderly man, figuring he had just forgotten the way.

The man's face twisted to confusion, then sadness "There hasn't been one in two years. Malon Al Damon forbids them, claiming it was a coverup for an assassin hideout. That to many people were grouped together in one spot. I see that you are not from around here, so I will tell you this, there are underground markets, but I cannot say where. They are well kept and hidden so that the guards cannot find and destroy them," he said looking around to make sure no guards heard his explanation.

"Thank you... safety and peace," Altaïr whispered, watching as the elderly man rushed away, so not to be seen talking with anyone he didn't know. It puzzled Altaïr as to why someone would even dare to take away something like a marketplace. It disgusted him that someone would be so paranoid as to stoop that low. This alone disgusted him, and gave him one reason to why Malon Al Damon should be killed.

There was no point for Altaïr to walk about to try and find a marketplace, and decided it was best to just return to the bureau, even if there were angry glances waiting for him. Although he wanted to find more information about the disgusting man who seemed to rule Jerusalem, his stomach was protesting by growling loudly, and cramping up in attempt to get Altaïr's attention. He swiftly climbed up a wall, hopped over a few alleyways as he rushed across the roofs, and jumped into the bureau with a slight plop of his feet hitting the stone ground. It was then that he took the time to look up from where he had just entered and wonder how Malik climbed the walls to get into the bureau, let alone get out. He shook his head, remembering to remove his hood as he stepped inside.

He was a little shocked to see Malik not glaring at him, but even more shocked to see the man asleep, curled up in his chair. He decided against disturbing his slumber as he walked past his desk, and into the storeroom where he got an apple. He swiftly walked past Malik, so not to disturb him, and sat down on a cushion, taking a bite of the fruit. He took the time to mull over what all had been going through his mind. His master, Al Mualim, was an issue that he was glad to be rid of for a few days, at least. He was tired of the old man gazing at him like some object, instead of an actual person. He shivered, pushing his master to the back of his mind as he recalled what the old man had told him earlier.

Malon Al Damon seemed to be a terrible man, only with the knowledge of his killing of his brothers, and the forbidding of marketplaces. Where were they suppose to get their food if they had such a trade like black smithing, tailoring, or any other profession that did not provide food, only money. Hell, how did beggars get their food without being able to steal from time to time? It was bleak, very bleak, and he was scared to find out more about this man. He simply shook his head and stared up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts drift to daydreams as he dreamed he was able to fly, and flew around Jerusalem in search for his prey: Malon Al Damon.

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><p>Slow first chapter is slow... But I promise it will pick up! Please review if you liked it, and please let me know if you notice anything misplaced. It has been a while (quite a while actually...) since I played AC, and I'm much use to Ezio more so than Altaïr and Malik, despite me having such an obsession over the pair, lol.<p>

Until next time~


	2. Chapter 2

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 2<p>

Author Notes: Wow, first day that I put up the story and I had two pages full of emails letting me know I have people favoriting the story, and story alerting it. Thanks guys! Glad you like it, and I hope you like this chapter also :)

OH and as a side note, I just wanted to let everyone know I have been known to take requests for tiny things if they aren't to out there as to disturb the storyline. You can let me know of any by e-mail (it's on my profile), deviantart, or in a review.

Special shout out to these amazing people for reviewing and letting me know I am doing alright: Sophie Aiyana, RueLi, and Sweetpeacee.

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><p>Malik awoke a few hours after Altaïr had taken refuge in the bureau. The other man was being so quiet, he hadn't noticed him resting on the cushions. He yawned, stretched and stood walking around the room, unaware of the amber eyes gazing at him from the other room. He paused and stared down at the sleeve of his white shirt, waving slightly from his movements. His dream had been so realistic, that he almost forgot the truth of his arms amputation. He cradled it in his hand, closing his eyes as he lowered his head, as if he was mourning the loss of the arm.<p>

Watching this, Altaïr couldn't help but feel more horrible than he already had. He lowered his head and stared at his boots, biting his lip. The feelings he was feeling at that moment, were really hard to describe. His heart ached for the loss of his friend and brother, Kadar, even though it was seven long years ago. He pained for his friend's loss of his arm, and wished that Allah would take his arm and give it to Malik, who deserved it more than he.

Malik let out a small yelp as he began to tip over, loosing his balance as he reminisced having an arm. Altaïr was swift on his feet, and behind him pulling him upright before he made it even close to the floor, which shocked the other man since he was not aware of the other's presence. "Thank you," he said, watching as he nodded and went back to his cushions. '_He actually remembered to remove his hood,_' he thought to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "How long have you been there?"

"A few hours, I didn't want to wake you," he stated.

Malik scrunched his nose up, mad at the fact he allowed himself to doze off, especially in front of this particular assassin. He kept his gaze fixed on him, watching him as he stared at the wall as if it was interesting. The air was filled with tension, mostly from Malik, as he didn't make any move to leave the spot he was glued in. He hoped he was making Altaïr feel uncomfortable, but as soon as the thought raced in his mind, he found himscolding himself.

"Are... you alright, brother?"

Malik blinked, looking up at the other, who was looking at him with interest. He could only assume that his expression on his face had contorted into something odd, and nodded his head, walking into the store room, and looking for something to eat. "Are you hungry?" The fast padding sound of Altaïr's feet could be heard second's before he arrived next to the Dai, answering his question as he looked around at the food that was stored. "I... take that as a yes," he stated softly, grabbing a few items and setting them down on the table set in the middle of the room. "We're out of beef..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Stay here, I need to head out and get some."

Altaïr blinked and took Malik's bad shoulder, to stop him, only getting an aggravated glare. He quickly let go, and held his hands up in surrender. "I had a question," the assassin stated, defending himself from the Dai's cold stare. Malik huffed in annoyance, then looked at him, as if telling him to continue with his question. "Where exactly are the market places? I was told that Malon Al Damon forbid them two years ago."

The Dai seemed troubled by his question, sliding his hand in his pocket and nodding grimly. "You were well informed. Yes, he did outlaw marketplaces two years ago. But of course, people still manage to keep them up. Come with me, I'll show you one." He pulled the assassin out, pulled out a set of keys and locked the storeroom door, heading to the bureau opening. Altaïr watched carefully, as Malik slipped the keys in his pocket, and hoisted himself up, climbing up and out. It amazed him how much Malik seemed to know how to do with the loss of something Altaïr couldn't imagine living without. "Are you coming, or are you just going to stare at me?" he asked, making Altaïr scramble up the wall, as Malik started to close the bureau gate, and lock it.

"I'm not useless, you know," Malik stated as they headed down the street. Altaïr gave him a curious glance. "I can do as much as you, assassin. So do not pity me, or think of me as just a man who stays locked away, forever mourning the loss of an appendage. It's only a minor setback, but more of a challenge to keep my mind going for new ways to do things." The other just watched him with interest. He never thought the man beside him was useless, only wondered how he did certain things. He secretly hoped that during his short stay he'd be able to see more amazing things that the man could do.

They turned down an alleyway, and stopped at a barrel. Malik opened it, after making sure no one was watching, pulled up his sleeve by lifting his arm upward, clamping his teeth down on the fabric, reaching in the water that the barrel was holding, then pulled a lever. The ground that Malik was standing on, shifted slightly, then jolted to the side opening a small crack in the ground. Altaïr smiled, watching as the Dai flushed slightly, "I suggested the idea, they all said it would be caught... two years later..." he drifted off, pulling his arm out and getting off the platform, pushing the rest of it out of the way, then heading down the stairs. When Altaïr followed, Malik pulled on another lever, making the opening close shut.

"I didn't know you invented," Altaïr commented.

Malik blushed ever so slightly and shook his head, "You give me to much credit, I have simply taken the ideas of other men and put it to good use," he stated, heading down the torch lit hall. Altaïr simply rolled his eyes, knowing that the other man was simply being modest, and followed him down a series of halls.

Altaïr stopped as they were getting closer to a more vibrant light. Malik sensed he was alone, and turned, tilting his head to the side as he stared at his brother confused as to why he stopped.

"Malik... Can I ask you something?"

Malik rolled his eyes, wishing he could cross his arms, as he shoved his hand in his pocket, tapping his foot ever so slightly, "Of course, but that doesn't mean I will give you the answer you seek."

The assassin was silent for a moment, almost making Malik loose what cool he had left, before he finally spoke, "Do you, or do you not hate me?"

Malik blinked, stilling his foot as he stood straight, "You allowed my brother to be killed, Altaïr. You didn't listen to me when you should have. You broke tenants of the brotherhood that the brotherhood have set for a reason..." the assassin lowered his head as the one-armed man stared at him, "yet, I do not find myself hating you as much as I once did. I find you arrogant and foolish, but at times very helpful," he stated.

Altaïr lifted his head looking up in shock at the slight compliment, "You...don't hate me?" he asked, almost unable to believe his words. Malik only shook his head, as he turned and headed down the hall once more. The now happy assassin followed him close behind, unable to contain the wide grin that formed on his lips.

The marketplace visit was uneventful at the least. It was simply a cleaned up sewer that had cheaply made carts and stalls lined up. They were older looking than they probably were, but they seemed to have had the mind set that they wouldn't be down there very long, but didn't have the heart to change them in hopes that they could again surface. It was almost disheartening, watching as people haggled down in the sewers for their food. Drops of water dripped down onto people as they did so, but they didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care. After the two got a decent size cut of cow, they headed back out the way they came, exiting from the same platform.

They were silent the walk back, and silent as Malik made stew. Altaïr kept his gaze on his fellow brother, watching as his face changed every so often from calm, to thoughtful, then to morbid. It went at such a confusing pattern, that the assassin didn't really know what to say. He sat there, wondering if the man was alright. It shocked him, when Malik walked over to his side, and plopped down on a cushion and laid back, staring up at the darkening sky above.

"I really hope you can kill that man, Altaïr." Altaïr looked down at him, not daring to speak, afraid that if he did, the comfortable air would go away as quickly as it came. "Jerusalem has had it's tyrants... but this man..." his brows furrowed.

"I will not fail you," Altaïr stated, staring down at the Dai, who looked back to him.

"Confident as always." Altaïr couldn't help but smile, then blinked as his hood was pulled down. "What did I say about the hood?" The assassin could only chuckle, muttering a soft "sorry" as Malik smiled and shook his head, resuming his glance up at the sky. It was a rare and odd moment, where the two were this close together without any sneering, or any snide comments being thrown about. Altaïr couldn't help but treasure the seconds, remembering back to his and Malik's training days when they would sneak off and just throw small rocks in a creek. He recalled Kadar always finding them within thirty minutes of them sneaking off, and scolding them for missing training.

"You better watch out, I might pass you up and become the best assassin ever." Altaïr blinked and looked back as Malik stated that. It was as if he was recalling the same memory. Malik simply smiled grimly, then stood and went back to checking on the stew. "It's ready," Malik stated, half expecting the assassin to be at the table in seconds ready to be fed, like a puppy, which was exactly how it was.

Despite how hot the stew was, Altaïr was quick to gulp it down, only to pause halfway through it to gulp down half of his cup of water. Malik stared at the other, a brow raised, wondering if his tongue had been scalded into not feeling any heat, or had been prior to allow him to eat something so hot so quickly. The broth stuck to Altaïr's upper lip whiskers making Malik snort and roll his eyes as he slowly ate his own soup. "You cease to amaze me," he murmured, sipping it and munching on a carrot.

Altaïr seemed to take that as a compliment, and stood stretching as he crawled back over to his cushions and collapsed. Soft snoring emitted the air within seconds, making Malik scowl as he started to clean up the dishes. "What do I look like? Your wife?" he asked, bringing them to a bowl of water and washing the bowls, spoons then the cooking pot and the spoon he used to cook. He simply poured the rest of the water, at least his own, back into the jug he kept his water in, and tossed Altaïr's out after noticing chunks of dinner inside the glass. He made a note which glass was his, and which was the pig on the cushion's, then blew out the candles, before going to retire himself.

As he laid down in his bed, he couldn't help but wonder about Al Mualim, and how exactly he treated Altaïr. He knew the master assassin had a habit of treating his favorite pupils like dolls, and liked to make them do whatever he could, just to test them. He shivered slightly, not envious of anyone who received that treatment. In a way, he was happy he had to become the Jerusalem Rafiq. It got him away from the older man, and allowed him freedom, a freedom that allowed him to run his bureau the way he wanted. Of course, as long as he stayed within the creed tenants, and didn't treat the assassins who came to help like they were lepers. The only real thing he missed was the hunt. Malik thought of himself like a lion. He enjoyed the catch of the hunt, the kill of the target. He half-wished he had the nerve to go out and kill Malon Al Damon right this second. As long as the job was done, right? He yawned, bringing his blanket up to his chin as he shut his eyes. He only wished later on that, that thought hadn't planted a seed in his mind, because he would regret it more than ever...

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><p>I'm surprised I had enough time to come out with this chapter so soon. Of course, there is the fact that I had a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me to get this story going faster... The next chapter will probably be up in a few days, if not sooner if I have time.<p>

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to any reviews,good or bad, I don't mind, feedback is always appreciated.

Until next time~


	3. Chapter 3

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 3<p>

Author Note: Thank you all for all the story favorites and watches~ It really means a lot to me, and really boosts me to want to write more for you guys. And thank you to 191026 for the lovely review.

Now on to the chapter~

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><p>"Malik..."<p>

Malik groaned, rolling over, pulling his pillow over his head in protest. Altaïr chuckled, and shook him again, "Malik, I am heading out. I plan to gather more information about Malon Al Damon," he stated, making the Dai shoot up, colliding his head with Altaïr's chin.

"Sorry!" Malik gasped, scrambling out of bed, helping Altaïr up from the ground. He mentally slapped himself as he tried to fix his hair, which (despite being short) stuck up in every which way.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have stood so close..," Altaïr coughed lightly looking to Malik, who sat on his bed again, grumbling from being woken up, "I was wondering where I might gather information about this man?"

Malik blinked away his sleep, scratching the back of his head. He nodded his head and stood as he rubbed his neck, "South of the bureau, there is a man by the name of Al Kidoff, he is one of Malon's most trusted advisers. You cannot miss his house, it is the only one painted in red. I'm sure around there you can gain some knowledge of the whereabouts of Malon and possibly more. If not, then a little ways west, you can find a group of scholars wandering about. If you hide within them, and speak with them, I'm more than positive they will tell you all they know."

"Thank you, Malik. Safety and peace."

"Safety and peace," Malik whispered as the assassin jogged out of his room. He didn't bother to follow him, only stare at the doorway, wishing that the other would have stayed longer. At catching him with this wish, he slapped his own face, getting dressed as he scowled. "I really should see a doctor, I think I am catching something..."

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><p>Altaïr headed to the west first. He did as he was told, waited until he spotted the scholars, then jogged and slipped into their center, putting his hands up and together as if he was praying. "Safety and peace, my friends," he whispered, gaining a glance from the short pudgy scholar on his left.<p>

"Ah, assassin. Who are we running from today, hm?" he asked, at the same volume as Altaïr. He had a small grin on his face, seeming to be interested in the new member of their group.

"No one as of now, for now I have questions I need to ask you," he stated, earning a curious glance from the other scholar on the right.

"We have answers for you, and will do our best to help you," the scholar from behind answered.

The group walked on, until they reached an area where they could create a circle, and speak to one-another. The Elderly scholar, who was once walking in the front, eyed Altaïr with great interest, as if he knew something about him, but kept it to himself. "How might we be of assistance, m' boy?" he asked, keeping his hands together, like all the others.

"I came to ask about Malon Al Damon, what exactly is it that he does to people?"

The scholars all looked grim, as all but the pudgy one lowered their heads in telling a silent prayer. "He has killed many men, he hires old doctors, ones that cannot be trusted in normal society and has them test things on the men and women he kidnaps. He steals thieves, men and women on the streets, and sometimes children that are orphaned, so not to cause that much of a disturbance. But everyone knows. Faces disappear off of the streets that once were there daily. The next time anyone sees them, is when they are either dead, or so lifeless, they say they no longer have a soul...

"He steals from the people, taxing them to high extents, trying to drive their will and hopes out. He removed their marketplaces from the town, and from outside the town. He openly murders all who oppose him, even assassins who have come for his head. He is a strong and dangerous man that I hope can be stopped."

The man lowered his head, indicating that he did not wish to speak any longer. They all kept their heads low, showing how much they hated and detested the man. Altaïr could understand, the man was making his blood boil just at the mere mention of the horrendous acts he was committing. "Thank you, my friends. Safety and peace," he stated,lowing his head in respect as they grouped together to move on. Altaïr stayed with them for a few steps, until they arrived in a crowd, then squeezed out of their group and jogged down the street.

He had all the information that he needed about this man, he just now needed to know his where a bouts. He craved to see this man dead, more than he had with any man in a long time, and kept his eyes focused as he climbed up a ladder and jumped from roof top to roof top. He paused, noting where the bureau was, and headed south of it, looking for a red house. When he found the house, he rather wished he didn't. The house wasn't just red from a sort of paint or dye. It was red like blood, what he assumed was human blood, making him cringe, and crouch down so not to see it.

Altaïr was no stranger to blood, but the fact that the man had his house painted with the blood of innocents, made him sick. He had to speak with Malik about this man, if he could help it, he'd have him on his list for assassination as well.

"Ah! My friend!"

Altaïr's head shot up to look towards the house as a round, bald headed man with a cheeky grin bounded out of the house, greeting a man who was surrounded by three Templar guards, and five foot soldiers who seemed to be just personal guards.

"Malon, how are you doing this fine day?"

Altaïr noted that the heavily guarded man was his target, and stared at him focusing on his features. He had him in his sites, he could catch him now! It could save a few extra lives if he did it now. He carefully pulled out a throwing knife and aimed, just one shot to the back of his neck, he'd either be killed or unable to move or speak if he managed to survive, an easier target for a later full assassination. As the two men conversed, Altaïr took his aim, hoping the man would turn so he'd have a clearer, more deadly shot to the neck. He chewed on his lower lip, keeping his arm still as he did so, one shot, no room for error.

It all happened so quickly. His arm flung forward, the knife projecting through the air as soon as Malon's head turned. The knife had hit it's mark, causing the man to stagger, grabbing at his neck, his knees buckling.

"ASSASSIN!" Al Kidoff roared, pointing upward, the guards all rushing to meet him on the roof. The blaring of bells was sounded almost as soon as the man had spotted him and pointed out his location.

Altaïr wasn't smiling anymore, he stood quickly, and raced as fast as he could across the roofs, soon soaring in the air and landing in a pile of hay. He stayed still for a moment, the sound of the guard's armor clanking all around him. He let out a breath he had been holding, knowing he was safe. He just now needed to wait until things had calmed down so he could head to the bureau and voice to Malik what he had done.

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><p>Malik dropped his quill as he hear the sound of the bells go off. He bit his lip, rushing over to the gate, and climbing up, closing it, then locking it. He hated that part of the job. He wished that there was some way he could allow the assassins inside, especially since they were in need of a place to hide. Even if the assassin this time was Altaïr, he felt terrible having to lock him out. Of course, he was aware of the dangers it would cause by letting him in. He could lead the guards straight to him, and any Rafiq knew, that was a very bad idea. He blinked, and hid out of sight as he heard someone walking over the gate. He didn't want to be to careful, so he slipped over to the room with his desk, and sat down. Now was the hard part, waiting until the bells stopped ringing. It was much like a waiting game, and he didn't much like waiting games.<p>

What exactly had happened? Was Altaïr foolish? Or had someone managed to kill Malon Al Damon before the assassin? He wasn't sure what was going on, so he just sat still, listening to the sound of all the commotion outside. He finally took to eavesdropping after a few seconds of aggravating uncertainty. The Dai stood, rushing to his room, only to be stopped for a moment after tripping over a chair leg, and pressed his ear to the wall opposite to his bed. For some reason, this wall was always very thin, and thankfully the citizens who resided inside were a pair of gossipers, allowing Malik to be up to date on everything without having to leave.

"Malon Al Damon's son was assassinated," a gruff voice said.

"To bad it wasn't the elder Al Damon, the man will be on high alert now even more so than he already was."

Malik scowled, standing straight as he heard the news. There was no doubt in his mind that Altaïr had made the mistake of rushing into the assassination, let alone rushed into killing the wrong person. He rubbed his temples, wishing and praying that his instincts were wrong, and that _his _assassin wasn't the one who had made this terrible mistake.

When the bells finally died down, he stood, rushing the the gate and opening it. Almost as soon as he had, Altaïr jumped down, smiling widely at Malik, who only glared. "I knew it was you, the moment the bells sounded. How could you be so stupid?" Malik's temper rose, lifting his fist up and slamming it against Altaïr's cheek as he lowered his hood. "You could have lost your life! There was no plan! And now the wrong man is dead!"

Altaïr stumbled back, rubbing his cheek, looking at the angered man confused, "Wrong man?"

"You killed his son, you blundering idiot! Have you learned nothing? Think before you act!"

Altaïr ducked as Malik threw another punch at him. He didn't know what to say, other than sigh and mutter "Nothing is true, everything is permitted," causing Malik to shake in restraining his urge to throw a third punch at him.

"You're an idiot," he repeated, turning his back on him and stomping back to his desk where he sat down and roughly began drawing out maps on a big piece of paper. He didn't know why Altaïr got him so boiled at that moment, but whatever it was put him in the worse mood. Maybe it was the fact that he was already losing his new found faith in the assassin? He wasn't to sure, all he knew was that he needed to calm down before he said another word to Altaïr.

His pen steadied as he slowly looked up to his room. It was like a light went off in his head. He quickly stood and pushed his papers aside, yanking a piece of wood loose from his desk, and pulled out a package wrapped in cloth. He hugged the package with his one arm, and rushed into his room, a giddy, yet childish smile on his face. He couldn't believe it took him this long to figure this out. After all, the saying "If you want something done right, do it yourself" rings very true.

Malik quickly untied the cloth from around the white garment inside, and shoved it on, then covering his head with his hood. He walked to a cabinet, and removed his hidden blade, attaching it to his arm, He slung his sword on his back, then tied his blade to his side. He stared down at himself, and smiled. It fit better than he remembered, and it felt great to wear his old assassin uniform. He quickly let his hidden blade retract a few times before he nodded and looked up. "Tonight, Malon Al Damon... You will be mine."

* * *

><p>Oh dear Malik. I sure hope you know what you are doing. And what about Altaïr? Well you will see in the next chapter~<p>

Please review and let me know how you are liking, or disliking it. I'd love to hear feedback :)

Oh, and as a side note, remember if you see anything out of place or wrong just let me know. I won't bite or fight with you xD. I'm replaying AC1, but I might still have details mixed up.

Until next time~


	4. Chapter 4

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 4<p>

* * *

><p>It was in the middle of the night, Altaïr could be heard snoring from his spot on the cushions, and that was where Malik was hoping he was going to stay. He paced in his room, going over the plan in his head, he was going to leave here, go to the tower where the target slept, climb to his window and kill him swiftly and without a sound. He'd be back in bed and fast asleep before anyone found Malon Al Damon dead.<p>

He stepped out of his room, closing the door slowly as he tip toed past the assassin. He paused, watching him as he slept, then rolled his eyes, walking forward and covered him with the blanket he seemed to lose while tossing and turning. He watched him for a moment, then sighed shaking his head as he pulled his hood up, and climbed out of the bureau.

The last time Malik did anything like this was a little more than seven years ago, and as he jumped from building to building, he could feel how out of shape he really was. Sure, he wasn't weak, or flabby, but just out of practice for something he was about to do. He kept down low to the ground so none of the now over alert guards would catch a glimpse of him, and scurried stealthily towards the rich district of Jerusalem.

The Dai's heart rate started to excel higher as he got closer to where his target was slumbering. If his informers were correct, he was on the top floor of one of the Templar towers. The...top floor... Malik stopped and blinked. How in the hell was he suppose to climb that high without falling to his death? The small wall of the bureau was one thing, and his fall wouldn't injure him to badly, other than his pride, but this was a tower. As he stared forward to his destination, his eyes traced it upward till it hit the final window at the top. A very big tower.

"If Altaïr can do it, you can do it," Malik whispered to himself, bringing his fist to his lips as he bit his knuckle nervously. '_You're an A-Sayf, don't let a wall scare you... after all, you show no fear to anything else, why should this be any different?_' his conscious whispered to him in the back of his mind. That seemed to have done the trick, as he started forward again, still keeping low to the ground as he trotted towards the tower.

He stopped, hiding behind a wall as he heard the clanking of a guards armor. He reached in his pocket, grabbing a hold of one of his throwing knives, and peaked behind the corner. The guard was not paying attention, Allah favoring Malik, as he threw the knife at the guard, hitting his throat, making the man mute as he collapsed bleeding to death. He pulled the man to where he was once hiding, so not to cause any attention while his plan was in motion, then trotted to the wall of the tower and stared up. Now the hard part. He carefully jumped up, grabbing a hold of a ledge in the design of the tower, and pulled himself upward as he let his feet slip in a crack, then hopped upward, grabbing a hold of another crack in the tower's structure.

It was a tiring, and slow process. By the time he made it halfway up, he made sure that the curtains of a window were secure so not to show his presence, before sitting on the ledge, and silently resting as he covered his mouth so not to make noise as he heaved for breath. As he stared down below, one question slowly popped into his mind: How was he going to get back down? He half groaned as he slapped himself in the forehead. How could he be so stupid as to forget that? He was so intent on getting this job done himself, that he had forgotten exactly how he was going to keep his life. 'I could... after killing the man... hide in his room, after they discover him I can knock out one of the guards, dress in his armor and walk out like nothing happened?' That... was a terrible idea. But it would have to make due, because as he scanned the ground, he did not see any hay bales he could attempt to dive into as an escape.

Cursing his now ill luck, Malik stood, and began his tough climb upward once more, regretting that he didn't at least bring Altaïr along for this, or at least telling him to redeem himself by going forward with this plan instead. But no, Malik was to stubborn for that.

Once making it to the final window, he sat down once more, after peaking inside to ensure his target was asleep. 'Now or never Malik,' he thought to himself as he slipped inside, pulling out his blade. Suddenly, this plan seemed like a bad idea. He could not question the man for his actions, nor could the other man fight back, this troubled him to a degree, but didn't stop him as he walked forward bringing his blade to his throat.

There was a sudden cracking sound, making Malik's eyes shoot to the right as the door to his sleeping quarters was opening. Malon Al Damon swiftly took his chance, grabbing Malik's arm and twisting it around so that he could not fight back.

"You kill my son... And now, not even a day after wards, you come for me... how touching," The man sneered in his ear, then throwing him to the ground, kicking his blade to the side. "Strip him of his weapons and robes, after wards take him to a cell. Teach him a lesson, but do not kill him. I'll be taking that honor, to revenge my son."

Malik wasn't given a second to react as four guards rushed forward, grabbing his arm, and his shoulder after realizing he only had one arm. They led him down many flights of stairs, being sure to keep a tight grip on him after realizing that this one-armed assassin had spunk, slamming him against a wall from time to time as he started to struggle. His spirits started to diminish as the air started to smell thin, and un-plentiful, indicating that they were underground. They stopped in front of a door, opened it, then marched inside a dirty cell with nothing but a pile of rotted hay in the corner for a bed.

The guards forced him to his knees. Beginning to strip him of his robes, and his weapons. After a long search, they finally decided he didn't have any more weapons, and left one guard inside. The Dai didn't bother to look up at him, staring at the blood stained floors, wondering what was to become of him. There was an evil sounding chuckle coming from the guard, as he heard rustling. Curiosity got the better of him, as he slowly looked up seeing the man now tapping a whip against his hand. The man's nostrils flared as he lifted the whip, and lashed out on Malik's back twice. He roared when Malik didn't even make to flinch, lashing out on him five more times before kicking him to his stomach.

"You won't break me, sir," Malik murmured, causing the man to roar louder, much like a aggravated bear, and throw the whip to the side, resulting in punching the smaller man in the back of the head, making his forehead slam to the ground. He winced at that, his brain screaming out signals to make the other man stop. But what could he do? This man was three times Malik's size, and had weapons. Malik just had his fist, and that was squished under his chest in an attempt to keep his only arm safe.

When the man realized that he was doing nothing to the other man, he stood, spitting on his wounded back, then turned grabbing his whip, then leaving, slamming the door as he left barking orders to lock the door. The wounded Dai laid on the ground, not budging an inch as he stared at the floor, his back and head throbbing with pain that he hadn't felt in many years. "Oh Allah... Why have I acted so foolish?" he murmured, willing to sit up and crawl to the pile of hay. He laid on his side, not daring to touch his now bleeding back to the makeshift bed. It seemed his only hope was that the assassin, sleeping soundly at the bureau would notice him missing and come and save him. He shook his head, nuzzling his head into his arm as he rolled to his stomach. 'I just hope Altaïr can manage to kill that man, like I failed to do so...'

* * *

><p>Altaïr had not woken till mid morning, yawning as he stood, quite cheerfully walking around in a circle, waking himself up. "That was the best nights sleep I've ever gotten," he stated to no one in particular, as he stretched upward then bending over. '<em>I wonder what Malik is up to..<em>.'

The assassin turned and headed into Malik's "office" area and blinked, confused as Malik was not sitting at his desk. Curious, Altaïr walked to the Dai's room, carefully opening the door to peak in. It was empty. Malik's clothes laid on the bed, carefully laid out for someone to put them on. Was Malik cleaning himself? The assassin turned and walked into the store room, then opening the door within to look and see if Malik was in the wash room. He was now officially confused. Where in the hell was the Dai hiding? There wasn't very many places he could hide in the bureau, so it was obvious he was not here. But why would Malik leave without his clothes?

He walked back to Malik's room, carefully picking up the Dai's shirt and bringing it to his face, breathing in the scent that was Malik. He shivered lightly, questioning why he did that, and laid the shirt down just as it was before. He walked out of the room, closing the door, and heading out of the bureau to stare around. Maybe Malik was exercising? He looked around the roof tops, sighing as there was no sign of the Dai anywhere. His stomach lurched at the sudden feeling that something bad had happened. He began to trot around on top of the buildings, in search for any sign of the missing man.

His eyes caught something glinting in the sunlight, causing him to pause and rush over to it. A throwing knife laid on the roof of a house, in the direction of where Malik had told him Malon Al Damon lived. "Malik... were you..." his eyes shot up, as he began to race in the direction of the tower. If his suspicions were right, Malon Al Damon had kidnapped Malik in the middle of the night. How could he not have heard them? He was sure that their footsteps would have woken him up. He cursed his ears, skidding to a halt as he smelled blood.

He looked around in search of the source of the smell. He found it after a few seconds, and stared at a dead guard, who's neck had a throwing knife sticking out of his neck. The guard had been placed here, to be hidden, and he knew that his comrades wouldn't of just let him rot on a civilians roof. Altaïr's mouth gaped open slightly at the sudden realization of what happened. Malik wasn't kidnapped... Malik was trying to assassinate Malon Al Damon himself!

He wondered exactly how the Dai planned to do that, but sighed, feeling the guards skin. It was cold, he had possibly been laying here all night and morning. That was not a good sign. He carefully dropped down from the room, edging close to the tower, sitting on a bench as he waited patiently for a foolish guard to converse with another and spill any indication that his friend was caught. He wanted so desperately to believe that he wasn't, that Altaïr was just paranoid, and Malik was actually on his way back to the bureau right at that moment.

A good hour had passed, and Altaïr was getting no where. No one spoke of anything, which was a bit odd to say the least. There was always at least one guard who found it his priority to let everyone around know the latest gossip. Why did it have to be now that he chose not to speak? By the time Altaïr was growing impatient, as if an angel touched his head, a guard rushed over to another one smiling like he had a great secret. Altaïr stayed seated, folding his hands together as he focused on the pair.

"Have you heard? Last night Malon's son's assassin tried to kill Malon!" he stated, trying but failing to keep his voice down.

"I heard, what of it? Did he escape or are you just here to ramble?"

The man seemed troubled, as the smile was wiped clean from his face, "No... But Malon is asking that everyone get a turn at hurting the man. He plans to kill him tomorrow when the sun rises."

Altaïr's heart stopped. So Malik had tried to kill Malon Al Damon, and was now being accused of being Altaïr. He closed his eyes, ignoring his thoughts as he continued to listen.

"Tomorrow, eh? I think the man should be killed immediately. No assassin should be left alive, even for a moment. They all deserve death."

Altaïr didn't bother to listen anymore, as he stood and stared to walk away from the two. He needed a plan, now and fast. Malik didn't deserve to be tortured for what he had done. Once again, Altaïr's mistakes were causing the Dai harm, and he could not forgive himself for that. He needed to kill Malon Al Damon for all the crimes he had committed, and most importantly, he needed to save Malik.

* * *

><p>Random side note question, has anyone found any glitches in AC that you find funny, or annoying? So far I've found two annoying ones in my replying of the game. One I was playing as Desmond, being a dumb-ass as I was trying to snoop on the doctor and Lucy, and found myself stuck inside a wall. Second, I was in the second visit of Damascus, running along the roofs, I fell inside one of them. At first I thought it was funny, then after a few minutes of trying to get out of the house I fell into, I figured out that I could not reach the way I fell in, no matter how hard I tried. Fun Fun~<p>

But anyway, please review if you liked the chapter, and even if you didn't, review and tell me what I did that you didn't like.

Review reply time:

191026: Wow, your review really made me smile. Thank you for confirming that I am not the only one who talks to Malik, and bugs him on purpose xD

Mizunou: Glad you like it so far, but don't worry, I won't kill Malik, I swear to that. I couldn't live with myself if I did that.

Until next time~


	5. Chapter 5

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 5<p>

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><p>Pacing back and forth, Malon Al Damon watched at a doctor grinned madly underneath his mask. His eyes gleaming with pure delight as he held a pair of long needles in one hand, and a knife in the other. "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit," he cooed as he leaned down over the already spent Dai.<p>

Malik was exhausted, in pain, and despite all that had happened his stomach growled in hunger. He watched as the doctor pulled up his stump of what was life of his arm, and couldn't find the will to do anything about it as the doctor jabbed a needle up inside it, making Malik scream out for a moment, before closing his mouth, biting at his tongue trying not to show any more signs of weakness.

"My, my, you are human after all, you filthy assassin," Malon chided, glaring down at him "After everything we've done so far, that's the first time you've shown any sigh of being hurt. You are quite the man..." he leaned down, cupping Malik's chin in his hand. "I could have some use for you, yet..."

Malik glared at the man, mustering up as much strength as he could, lifting his leg and kicking the man in the crotch. Malon stumbled backwards, snarling in pain, hunched over slightly. The doctor lurched forward, using his knife to cut at Malik's chest making a "X" deep enough to make a scar, but not deep enough to do anything physical. Malon pushed the doctor aside, kicking Malik to lay on the ground then grabbed his throat, punching him hard in the chest. The Dai coughed and sputtered, trying to regain his breath as the man kicked him in the stomach, standing upright, straightening out his shirt. "You will know next time, not to do anything like that again," he growled angrily.

Malik stared at the wall as Malon Al Damon left with the doctor, spitting on the ground as he slammed the door closed and locked it. He slowly sat up, grimacing as he did so, breathing deeply as he leaned back against the wall miserably. He could feel his chest, and stump of his arm bleeding, his arm dangled at his side limply as he felt himself wondering if he was going to die. A sudden fear struck him cold as he thought of death. This wasn't where he wanted to die, nor did he ever see himself dying like this. But that wasn't the thing that scared him the most. It was the fact that he would never see _his_ stupid assassin again. Tears weld up in his eyes as he thought of that fact. The only person he had ever cried for was his brother Kadar. How could he allow himself to cry over something like this? The man who allowed his brother to be killed. The man who allowed him to be harmed and lost his limb. He managed to lift his arm into placing his bleeding hand to his chest, his heart aching. He knew it had been years since he actually forgave Altaïr, but that never stopped him from blaming all his actions, his jeers of hate towards the man. His heart pounded as he lifted his hand and stared at it. But this was forbidden. His heart, his mind, everything was wrong. Why was it now that he suddenly began feeling love towards him? He groaned as his head spun in circles. Al Mualim had pushed many assassins, many men into becoming his _toys_, maybe it was that knowledge that allowed Malik to be plagued with false feelings towards the other man? Whatever was the case, Malik didn't really know, he assumed he wasn't going to be alive long enough to find out.

* * *

><p>Altaïr paced back and forth in an alleyway, his hand pressed to his lips as he thought. Malik was trapped inside, Malon Al Damon was inside, and so were numerous Templar's. If it came down to it, he decided that the top priority was to get the Rafiq out of there, and if he missed killing Malon so be it. There would be another time, and another place to kill him if there was failure in that aspect of the mission. On the way, he could slay a couple Templar guards to boost his motivation and ego. One less Templar in the world was always a good thing in Altaïr's book.<p>

He decided he couldn't wait any longer, and climbed up the wall he was next to, and took off in the direction of the tower. Stick to the shadows, kill if he must. That was basically the only plan he had. Search and rescue, and maybe kill. He readied his blade, watching as a guard started to come close to him as soon as he jumped into the towers courtyard. When the man had just about passed him, he rushed behind him covering his mouth and stabbing him in the back, and dragging him to the side to hide his body as soon as it went limp. He crouched low to the ground and scurried across the courtyard, bolting into the opened door, and hid behind a barrel as another guard started out the door.

Altaïr let this guard live, since he looked small and pathetic, and kept moving forward until he arrived at a set of stairs going up and a set going down. Since Malon's quarters were upwards, he only figured they were holding Malik down below, and rushed down the stares, barely making a sound as his feet hit each step. He paused mid step as a strange sound erupted in the staircase hallway. It sounded like stone rubbing forcefully against stone, which made the assassin think of a trap, looking around for any falling objects or falling trap doors. When nothing happened, and the sound stopped with a last pounding sound of something closing shut, he slowly edged forward, keeping his eyes alert and his ears listening for any sound of someone coming.

Although Altaïr was trying to be quick about finding the Jerusalem Dai, he had to make sure he was not in any danger either. What good would he be if he was caught and somehow brought down? Ego aside, Altaïr knew that he had been plagued to mistakes lately, and wanted to make sure that they no longer continued. His heart began to race as he kept going downward in a continued spiral, starting to believe that he wasn't moving at all. The only thing that comforted him of this thought was the different placings of some of the stones on the walls of this seemingly never ending hallway. If they had really put so much effort into locking Malik all the way down here, he hoped that there would be a chance for him to draw a blade against someone.

Laughter erupted, making the keen assassin stop and slowly edge forward as the hall began to light up brighter than just the occasional torch as he went down. He peaked inside a doorway to see more than two dozen guards, all grouped together in some sort of eating hall feasting on different types of dishes and meat. The site made Altaïr recall that he had not eaten today, and made him sick all at once. Thousands of citizens were on the streets, starving as they worked in attempt to feed their families and themselves, then here they were eating as if food was everywhere in plenty.

He managed to look away, and go down a dimly lit hallway, worse than his climb downward, making sure to check every room to make sure Malik wasn't in any of them. He felt his heart stop as he came across his twelfth room, still no Rafiq to be found. The thirteenth room he came across was occupied, but by a screaming man, who attacked the door, shaking the bars that covered the small window inside much like an animal. Altaïr backed away from the man, rushing on ahead as he continued his search for the Dai.

* * *

><p>Malik rubbed his eyes as he let out of a soft sigh. It had only been less than twenty-four hours since his capture, but it felt like a lifetime. If he had just stayed back at the bureau none of this would have happened. Altaïr would have completed the job the next day, and the people of Jerusalem would be rid of the tyrant that ruled over their city. "Maybe I am just a useless scrap of meat now..." he murmured to himself, leaning his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. The man was feeling a little short of pathetic as all the negative thoughts began to cloud his mind from thinking of anything logical. All his hopes of escape were lost, and all he could find himself wanting to do was to wilt away.<p>

The sound of the door lock opening, jerked his mind away from such negativity as Malon Al Damon walked in, two doctors behind him carrying a bag each. The Dai stared at the bags, then slowly looked up to Malon, awaiting his witty explanation of how they were going to do something horrible to him. The man walked over to him, bent down and stared into Malik's eyes, a smile perched on his lips, his long black hair falling in his face making him look more monster than human.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions... If you do not answer truthfully, my doctors will find a way to make you speak the truth instead," he stated, snapping his fingers. On cue, one of the doctors stepped forward, laying his bag on the ground, then opening it and taking numerous tools and bottles of different substances out of it and placing them on the ground nearby.

"What is your name, Assassin?" Malik's eyes clouded over as he thought hard. He wasn't about to give him the answers he wanted. "Don't make them have to harm you..." he warned, his smile slowly slipping into a menacing frown.

"My name is Kadar," he lied.

"I see, and who sent you to assassinate me, Kadar?"

Malik hesitated, wondering for a moment if he should tell the truth. "I came on my own," he stated, truthfully.

Malon's mouth thinned as he stared down at him hard. "And why did you seek to kill me?"

"You are a terrible man who seeks to harm the innocent, and deprive the citizens of Jerusalem of proper food, a proper way to live. You kill people, torture them, and experiment on them like they were nothing-"

"Is that what you think of me? I do not harm those who would not die in the long run. I take those who are mad, wandering the streets like rats. I take pity on them, using them to try and better the world."

Malik's eyes narrowed. He had first hand witnessed this man's cruelty since he came to power. Even with that knowledge, it was easy to see the man's lie by the way his eyes looked. They were clouded over like a wolf mad with hunger. The man was even more insane than he had thought previously.

"Another question. Why did you seek to murder my son?"

Malik kept his mouth shut, choosing his words carefully. Should he tell him that it was a mistake? Would the man believe that? Should he tell him that he was only seeking to put out a potential evil that would rise after he had assassinated the man in front of him? Should he say nothing? Despite what he was mulling over to say, Malon grew impatient, smacking his face hard, making Malik briefly lose his hearing, a ringing sound going off in his left ear.

"Answer me!"

"I... I wanted to make you weakened... I was hoping to make you an easier target by striking a vulnerable spot first..."

Malik couldn't tell what the other man thought of that answer, and quite frankly, he didn't know why he even stated that. It made him fear his own mind, sounding much like a heartless monster. Malon, much to the Dai's surprise, smiled widely, standing and crossing his arms.

"I like your style, Kadar. Nothing like those filthy assassins who tried to kill me before hand. They simply wanted me dead, but you. No, you wanted something more didn't you? You wanted to hurt me before taking the plunge and killing me. If I had fallen for that, I would have been a easy target, going into a depression instead of anticipating an attack on myself.

"But of course," he paused, bringing his hand to his chin, "Of course, I had already parted with my son months ago. We were anticipating my own death, so I had said my goodbyes to him. Never did think that it would be the other way around, instead..."

The man's eyes glinted as he stood tall, staring over Malik's head at the wall. "I think I have some use for you yet..." the man snapped his fingers, making the doctor clean up his tools quickly, then scurry out of the room with the other doctor. His eyes traced down to the Dai, who shivered under his crazed gaze.

The door opened, a man in a blackish blue robe with his hood dawned over his head much like an assassin wears, walked inside, making Malon look back, and smile wider. Malik looked up as the man stepped closer, causing him to freeze and stare up in disbelief. "I believe you know each other?" Malon asked, cackling softly.

* * *

><p>Mysterious hooded man! Cookies to anyone who can name what that's from. But no, jokes aside, it's a secretive man! Who could this be?<p>

Please review~ It gives me a reason to go on, and makes my day brighter to see someone liking what I am putting out here. Also, even bad reviews are good, they make me want to try harder to beat whatever it is that bugs my readers.

**Review Time**:

jackkeroauc: Thank you very much :)

191026: Your reviews never cease to make me smile. I'm glad you are enjoying this story as much as I am with writing it. I stopped to watch a few of your glitches on YT, and they are pretty funny. Ahhh Assassin's Creed glitches, have to love them.

Sophie Aiyana: That... doesn't sound like a fun glitch at all. I think I would have raged at that o_o;, but I'm glad you are enjoying the story :)

**Side Note**:  
>Wanted to give you all a heads up, that I probably won't be updating as frequently as I have been after this chapter for about a week and a half. My friend is flying out to stay with me and we plan to do a bit of site seeing along with massive video game spamming of mostly Assassin's Creed and Devil May Cry games xD. Along side with my college classes and work, my attentions going to be 100% devoted to her. Of course, I will not forget about you guys, and will probably get some writing in while she has her hands on the controller :)<p>

Until next time~


	6. Chapter 6

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 6<p>

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><p>"Master?" Malik managed to say, staring up at Al Mualim, who stared down at him with a blank expression. He heard Malon snicker as he gaped up at the man, wondering what the master assassin was doing inside the tower.<p>

"Malik... Where is Altaïr?" Al Mualim asked, kneeling down, taking the Dai's chin in his hand and observing the cuts on his face.

Malik didn't answer at first then stared into his master's eyes. "I do not know. I came here on my own, without his knowledge. What are you doing here, master?"

Al Mualim didn't answer, only stood and shook his head, turning and looking to Malon. "This is not the assassin you are seeking, Malon..."

"Then what do I do with him? Release him so he can attempt to murder me again?" Al Damon glared at the older man, his fists clenched as he stared daggers at him.

Al Mualim paused, and slowly looked back at Malik, who's eyes betrayed the small amount of fear he was feeling. "I will retrieve the apple... We will change his mind about wanting to kill you," he said softly, leaving the room.

Malik's eyes widened slightly, watching as the two men left the room. What? The apple? One of the Pieces of Eden? He stared down at the floor, hoping that his will was strong enough to resist the object. In his weakened state, he assumed it would end badly for him, especially if he somehow found out his feelings for Altaïr. It was a known fact that Al Mualim didn't like to share. If any assassin's proclaimed their love to any one person that he felt claim over he would seek to destroy them at all cost. He gulped and looked to the side, hugging his one arm over his exposed chest. This was not going to end well.

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><p>It was nearly noon when Al Mualim returned, the glowing apple in hand. He didn't speak a word, simply held it out, causing Malik to shoot up to a standing position, legs spread slightly, arm in the air, as he snarled at the older man, controlling his movements.<p>

"How do you like this, Malik?" the old assassin asked, cruelly. "The artifact that you sought out seven years ago, the one that you risked your arm and your brother's life for, is now controlling your every move..."

"At least it doesn't control my every thought... _Master_," Malik managed to sneer back.

"For now..." Al Mualim stated, staring at the other rather ferociously.

A moment passed before a sharp pain shot through Malik's brain. It felt terrible, as if a tiny needle was going through every thought that ran through his mind, every image, every day dream. He started to sweat, fighting against the pain, grinding his teeth together, his mind flashing with memories and pain, causing him to loose his grip. Then the memory of a teenage boy slowed down in his mind. He was being lead into the novice camp by one of the master Assassins. He seemed to only be fourteen or fifteen, but wore a scowl on his face, his lip bleeding from a cut running down both his lips on the right side. He tried to remember his name, all was coming to his mind was that he was one of the top in the camp, and that he never really spoke to anyone, simply focusing on his work.

The two stopped, and the man pointed to the pot of food that was set out for lunch. The boy rushed over, taking a bowl from the server, and allowed him to pour in some of the sloppy porridge-like substance that tasted much like potatoes. He walked over to a tree and sat under it, carefully eating, ignoring his cut.

Malik blinked, and stood, and walked over to the boy, handing him a scrap of cloth, "You might want to stop the bleeding," he stated, looking down at him. The boy didn't move, just stared at the cloth, confused. He rolled his eyes, and bent down, reaching forward, pressing the cloth to his lip, carefully pushing pressure on it. "I'm Malik."

"Altaïr..." he said softly, through the scrap of cloth.

Malik's mind went blank, as the thought of the assassin filled his mind. His heart started to pound as he imagined him smiling, looking at him with caring eyes. Al Mualim frowned, not able to faze Malik's mind, his arm shaking as he tried to break through the Dai's mental defenses. He rose the man up, using the power of the apple, then slammed him against the wall, then turning and leaving the room, a scowl on his lips. He slammed the door, making the Rafiq open his eyes and sit up, rubbing his hurt shoulder that was slammed against the stone wall.

He did it. Malik had fended off something that was even more powerful than he. All he had to do was focus on Altaïr, and keep his mind on the assassin. It was a weird thought, but as his heart pounded, he sighed, putting his knees to his chest and bringing his head down to press his forehead against them. He was falling, or had already fallen completely, for the clumsy assassin. This could either be terrible, or just bad. Altaïr didn't like him like that in the slightest, and that made him sad for his one sided feelings. He lightly banged his head on his knees before straightening out. He had to be strong, he couldn't afford to be weak. He let out a groan at the realization that he would have to face Al Mualim's power once again, suddenly feeling his mind drained from it's battle. He laid down on his makeshift bed, and allowed himself to drift off, hoping that he'd be ready for his next battle.

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><p>Altaïr waited until nightfall, keys in hand to sneak Malik out. Malon Al Damon had chose not to kill him up until that point, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to soon. He had to act now. Swiftly and quietly killing the two guards who stood in front of the door, the assassin padded forward, sticking the key in the door and unlocking it. The Dai was passed out on his rotted hay bed, making the taller man sigh, and step forward slowly.<p>

The Rafiq was badly injured, cuts all over his body, some seemed to be infected, his stump of a arm bleeding from torture. Altaïr didn't bother to wake him, simply picked him up, holding him close in his arms as he left the room. If it wasn't for Malik's slow steady breathing, he would have thought that he was dead, from his lack of movement and response to him picking him up. He climbed up the stairs, passing the bodies he had slain prior as he quickly moved to leave the tower.

It was almost to easy to get out, which confused the assassin, but shrugged it off just taking it as a stroke of good luck. "Altaïr..." Malik murmured, pressing his face against his robes, nuzzling slightly. Altaïr stared down at him, walking through the streets, careful to stick to the shadows as guards walked around patrolling the area. "Foolish...novice..." the smaller man sighed, making the assassin roll his eyes as he started to trot through the backstreets.

He paused at the ladder to get up to the bureau, shifting Malik so he was on his left shoulder, only using his right hand to climb the ladder, carefully holding onto the Dai with his left arm. He felt him starting to stir, moving his arm, which was dangling behind him as he climbed, and touching his back lightly. He only prayed that the man would wait to wake till he was no longer climbing anymore to resist a struggle.

Once he arrived on the roof, he carefully lowered Malik to sit on the ground, holding him to sit upright. "Malik," Altaïr lightly shook the other man, careful not to hurt him as he winced slowly opening his eyes.

" Altaïr?" the other asked, looking up to him disbelieving. His eyes drifted to the night sky, staring up at the stars as they twinkled, like happy reminders that he was alive.

"Yes, my friend. I am here. Let me take you to your room, at first light I am sending for a doctor to look at you, for now I will clean your wounds as best as I can," he stated, slowly picking him up again.

Malik wanted to protest, to tell him he could walk, but kept his mouth shut, leaning his head against the strong assassin's shoulder, his heart pounding in his chest. What exactly happened? After Al Mualim had tried to invade his mind using the apple, he remembered passing out, and now he was in the arms of the assassin he had been thinking about? The reasoning in his brain had told him that this was once again another dream. He clung to Altaïr as he climbed down the wall, into the Bureau, and looked around as he was carried to his room. He noted that his clothes were still on the bed, and was set down to sit next to them.

"One moment, let me get you cleaned up," the taller man whispered, rushing out of the room to return wearing his hood down, hidden blade off with a handful of bandages, herbs and a bowl of water with a rag.

Malik would be lying if he stated that it didn't hurt. He cringed as Altaïr wiped away the blood on his skin, his hand hindering as he got below his belly button (he also could have sworn he saw the assassin blush a little) and cleaned the wounds as best as he could, taking his time to be careful with the whipping marks on his back. He put the herbs in place, and wrapped the bandages around his wounds, having to get up twice to get more, then carefully laid him down, and covered him up.

"Altaïr, there is something I need to tell you," Malik stated, grabbing a hold of the assassin's sleeve as he turned to leave. Altaïr's heart pounded as he stared down at Malik, wondering what it was he had to say. "Al Mualim is against us, friend. He is working with Malon Al Damon to slowly rid of the assassins... his goal was to eliminate you. If you had gone instead of me... you would have been hung at first chance," he stated, slowly letting go of his sleeve.

Altaïr was quiet for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I have suspected out master of some ill intentions as of late," he whispered, sitting down next to Malik and staring down at his hands. "He has been sending various novices into the battlefield, despite their lack of training. When I questioned his motives I was almost stripped of my ranking again. He said that I wasn't trusting in the creed, and more importantly, I wasn't trusting in the brotherhood..." Malik watched him, feeling sorry for him, as he told him what he knew. "That is why I acted like a novice, and killed the wrong man. I was eager to prove that I wasn't un-trusting of those who commanded me. I was eager to prove to you that I could do something right, so I could... impress you somehow..."

Malik half snorted, looking to the side, not believing what the assassin was telling him. Altaïr wanted to impress _him_? How could that be? "You have ceased to not impress me, Altaïr," he admitted softly. Altaïr raised a brow, looking to the other, confused. "To be honest, I haven't been angry at you for about six years now. I just got so mad when I found out you killed Malon's son, mostly because... You could have been hurt..." The Dai was struggling with his words, and the assassin could see it as clear as day.

Altaïr stood, giving him a half smile, "It won't happen again, after I fetch a doctor for you I plan to go in and finish what you started. I will kill Malon Al Damon, and if I have to, I will deal with Al Mualim."

Before the Dai had anything to say on the matter, Altaïr was out of his room. He stared at the door, waiting and watching, hoping that he would come back so he could tell him what was on the edge of leaving his lips. "I love you, Altaïr," he whispered, bringing his hand to his lips and biting at his index finger, closing his eyes. "I don't want you to have to go..."

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

191026 and Mizunou: I knew that it was kind of obvious of who the mysterious hooded man was, I just couldn't resist leaving it at a cliff hanger. I tend to do them, but not as often then I like (usually I have to hold myself back 90% of the time from having one). Glad you both enjoyed the last chapter, and sorry I meshed both of your replies together, if I didn't I'd pretty much be repeating myself xD

**Side Note:**  
>Not that short of a wait :D, mostly because instead of working on my paper I flipped to this most of the time... BUT I still got both done on time, so... trophy for me? I'd like to hope so, lol. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Poor Malik, least he's safe in his nice warm bed with a sexy assassin nearby?<p>

Also, wanted to apologize for uploading this twice, I uploaded the wrong one at first. After I clicked save the final time my computer shut off, and I freaked out, hoping it saved in time. It sort of did, only saving till up to the last chapter I wrote and nothing that I edited after rereading it and correcting mistakes. So I quickly took it down after I noticed it was the wrong one, and put up this one instead. I apologize Dx

Please review~

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><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:  
>Side short prompted by Darik, my friend in real life. (Will take ideas for the next mini story in reviews, emails,and messages on DA if you would like to suggest something)<br>This has nothing to do with the story, just random fluff.

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><p>Featuring Leonardo and Ezio.<p>

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><p>Ezio rolled his eyes, walking up to Leonardo's door. The seventeen year old had no idea why this man enjoyed to paint. It seemed rather dull to him, rather... boring. He stepped up, and knocked carefully, wondering why exactly his mother had sent him to fetch even more paintings from this man, especially since they already had half a room covered in them.<p>

Leonardo answered the door, and his mouth gaped slightly, blushing. Ezio was about to question him, but was immediately pulled in and pushed to sit on a stool. "I must... paint you," he murmured, closing and locking the door.

Ezio was about to protest, but froze when Leonardo slowly pulled off Ezio's shirt, grabbing his paint and starting to create a wave of lines across his skin. The seventeen year old hated to admit this, but the way the painter looked while painting, looking so impassioned and confident, made him feel attracted to him. Even though he was using him as a canvas, he couldn't help but stare at his face, captivated by it's every movement.

Leonardo stopped, and blinked looking up at the young man's expression, and turned even redder. His confidence faded, as he thought for a moment what to do. Before he did anything, Ezio moved down, capturing his lips in his own, confidently pushing him back to the floor, leaning over him. It was a slow kiss, but Leonardo's first, and Ezio's first ever man kiss. He was always so confident around women, but at this, he was more hesitant.

When the kiss finally broke, Ezio realized that the paint on his skin was now a mesh of colors, now splattered over Leonardo's shirt. He laughed softly and shook his head, "Sorry," he stated, sitting up, helping the other man to his feet.

"No, no, let me get you cleaned up."

When Leonardo had changed his shirt, and Ezio was cleaned of paint and once again wearing his shirt, Leonardo could only blush and hand him the three paintings that his mother was requesting. Ezio thanked him, then was out the door, and running up a wall to the roof. The painter was still blushing, but closed the door, and looked down to his paint smeared shirt that was on the ground. It was sad, but he was now more proud of that mess of a shirt, than any of his other works of art.


	7. Chapter 7

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 7<p>

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><p>Malik was awoken by the feeling of being prodded. He groaned and pushed the doctors cold hands, being scolded almost immediately by the swift smack of his hands. He noticed his assassin in the corner, looking over at the doctor, concerned for Malik as the man checked him over.<p>

"Altaïr, I need to speak with you later," Malik stated, watching as his amber eyes hit his own and gave a curt nod. It was now or never, he needed to admit his feelings for the other, whether he was ready or not. The imprisonment taught him that, he didn't know when he'd have another chance, especially with the man going on a head hunt for Malon Al Damon later on.

"WILL YOU-"

Malik nearly punched the doctor, who wiped at his arm, making it sting, "Calm down, brother. It will not get better if we do not treat it," the doctor scolded, watching as Malik scowled and looked to the side, making the assassin watching him smile and cover his mouth to hide his amusement.

Altaïr hated to admit it, but the way Malik hated doctors reminded him much of a child. He cringed at the mention of doctors, and refused to go and see them even if he was sick and it would make him feel better. He looked up hearing the Dai huff, the doctor gathering his things.

"You are very lucky that you only had a few minor infections. The herbs will make them heal faster, but you will be feeling uncomfortable for a week or two at least."

"Thank you, doctor," Altaïr thanked, leading him out of the bureau. Once he returned, he placed the extra bandages and herbs on the table. "You wanted to speak to me? Or did you want to wait until I returned with Malon Al Damon's blood?" he asked while twirling a feather with his fingers.

"Do you have a plan on killing him?" Malik asked, watching the feather, his heart pounding in his chest.

Altaïr shrugged and sat at the foot of his bed, "I am going to do a bit of listening and information finding, find where he will be, if there's going to be an event that he is attending. I'm going to have to pay attention to every detail since he will no doubt be on high alert because of last night."

Malik hesitated, and let out a soft sigh, "Maybe it would be best if you held off for a while. At least till he isn't aware... of any more danger..." The Dai cursed himself for his lack of words. He didn't know what he was trying to say, and he knew Altaïr was not stupid, and knew he was wondering what he was rambling about by the raise of his brow.

Malik took in a breath, then slowly let it out, slowly looking to the curious assassin. "This is not easy for me to say, and I ask you to please not laugh at me, and take me serious..."

"I promise, brother. I will not laugh, and I promise I will take what you say serious-"

"Altaïr, I love you."

Altaïr blinked and raised a brow again, "I love you, too, brother. I would give my life to save yours."

"No, you do not understand. I love you. Not like a brother, like a...love...er." The dumbfounded expression on Altaïr's face scared Malik. He didn't know how to take it. He knew he shouldn't of said anything. That kind of love was forbidden, after all. And hadn't he been one to scold the other for his way of life? Why would he go back on what he had been following so diligently? "Never mind, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Malik... I'm glad you did."

"Why?" Malik asked scrunching his nose slightly. Altaïr shook his head, leaning forward, placing his hand on Malik's cheer, tenderly. The Dai's expression softened, and he stared into the assassin's eyes, confused as Altaïr's lips touched Malik's. Before he had any time to be confused, his hand pressed against the other's chest, pressing his lips upward rougher than intended. The assassin let out a soft growl, making the Dai blush slightly, slowly reaching around his neck with his one arm, to grab onto his hair.

Despite Altaïr having short hair, it had been a fantasy of Malik's to grab onto his hair, and let his fingers run through it. He felt his hands snake around his waist and pressed himself against him. He was reluctant, but pulled back, gasping for air, Altaïr pressing his face against the other's neck, holding him close. They sat there a moment silent, till the assassin moved, looking down at Malik.

"I should... probably head out..." he whispered against his lips. Malik could only muster a small nod before closing his eyes, feeling the taller man move away and stand. He opened his eyes to see the other man staring at him from the doorway. He opened his mouth to say something, then quickly shut it and turned rushing out of the room.

The Dai was confused. It was obvious that Altaïr had feelings for him, or he would not have made such a move. Least, he didn't think the man would do something as so cruel as to play with ones mind as such. He let himself lay back, wincing slightly from his wounds on his back, and closed his eyes letting his mind drift off to hope as he wished that they could be more than just brothers in the creed. The thought also scared him, due to the fact that it usually meant death to those who practiced such a love in their culture. What if the other was scared of that very thing? He didn't have a clue, and it bugged him. He scowled at not really being able to get up and move around. If he did, he knew he'd regret it due to pain and possibly agitating his wounds, so he stuck to being tortured in his bed. '_At least I have a bed_,' he thought to himself, hugging his one arm over his chest and letting his eyes close. '_Might as well try and sleep._'

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><p>Altaïr, despite his composer as he walked carefully through the crowds, was even more in a fit than the Dai was about the kiss. Why did he respond in such a way? Did he love playing with fate so much as to play with the possibility of being stoned to death as well? He scowled, watching as a man next to him jumped as his slight growl and moved away from him as fast as his stump legs would take him. It was best for him to just stop thinking, and keep moving to find a way to kill both Malon Al Damon, and Al Mualim. Malon was the top priority. He was the original target, the one that captured Malik, the one who <em>hurt<em>Malik.

He stopped in the road, making a man with a box run into him and curse. He quickly said he was sorry, then scurried out of the road and into an alleyway. It was then that it hit him. People were in the streets? He was so use to crowded streets in Acre, Damascus and Masyaf that he hadn't put any thought to them walking about. But this was Jerusalem, home of his target Malon Al Damon. The man who took the marketplaces off the streets, and made people scared to leave their homes. Why now was there people out and about? The assassin turned and rushed back out of the alley, looking at the groups of people. They were different. They seemed happy. Men and women, all smiling and walking to the north.

Confused, Altaïr slowly walked through the crowds, careful to stay away from the conversing groups as he listened in to as many conversations as he could.

"This is a marvelous day, Marya, we can finally live in peace as we once did, able to buy the food we need," he heard an older man telling his daughter, who skipped next to him merrily.

"I wonder if Malon Al Damon has gone mad? Why now after all these years, is he giving us, the people, what we need. It's as if he grew a heart in that empty hole in his chest!" a woman exclaimed to a group of three other people, who nodded in agreement.

Malon Al Damon was letting the people have their marketplace again? What was the mad man thinking? He swiftly moved from the people, scaling a wall upwards, then racing over the top of the roof, jumping over the small alleyway to the opposing roof, and rushing to where the market was. He skidded to a halt and stared down at the hustle of people haggling and conversing to shop owners. He blinked, and noticed a member of the brotherhood that he recognized, looking in on the people down below much like himself. He carefully rushed over to where he was and climbed down, plopping next to him, earning a nod of the head.

"Hello, Altaïr. Curious isn't it? A man so ruthless, so evil, turned compassionate and loving of his people overnight."

"Curious indeed, brother. Do you know anything of this?"

"I heard tales. Talk isn't cheap though, I would need you to do something for me in return for this information."

"Anything."

"There's a man named Tendan L'ahad south of here," the man pulled out a scroll from his pocket and handed it to Altaïr, who opened it and studied the face of the man sketched skillfully on the parchment. "He took something very important to me. A letter from my beloved. I need you to steal it back for me. But I plan to leave the city, and head to Damascus before noon, so I need it before then."

"Done, I will retrieve it immediately."

Before the other man had a chance to wish him luck, he scaled the wall upward, rushing in the direction he pointed to him, scanning the streets for him. It didn't take him long to find him, his strange walk made anyone want to give him a second glance as he swung his arms at his sides very ape-like. Altaïr jumped down from the roof into an alleyway, then rushed behind the man, observing him for a moment before reaching out and snatching the piece of paper sticking out of his pocket. He backed away, taking a look at the parchment, then turned his back to the man and rushed back to his fellow assassin.

Upon handing him the letter, the man smiled and tucked it away, looking up to Altaïr, "The guards have been stating that Malon Al Damon seems to be controlled. He locks himself away, and when he emerges he staggers mindlessly, and doesn't seem to have a thought in his mind. He never acknowledges the guards, and takes to only speaking to one man, a man in a black cloak. He addresses the people, but never speaks one on one with anyone except that man."

"Thank you brother, this has been most helpful."

The assassin nodded his head, then took his leave, leaving Altaïr with his thoughts as he stood, his hand on his chin. He needed to discuss this with Malik. Maybe he had some idea of what was going on.

He weaved through the crowd, heading towards the Bureau, and broke out into a run once the area was cleared. He sprinted up the wall, and jumped down into the bureau, rushing into Malik's room. Upon barging in as such, Malik sat up, his eyes concerned.

"Malon Al Damon has given the people their city back. They say that he seems to be controlled, that he only speaks to a man in a black cloak, and is seen staggering instead of walking."

"Al Mualim... He must be using the Apple of Eden to control Al Damon. He's trying to win the people over by controlling the man they hate and give them what they desire. To what his purpose is, I do not know. Altaïr, you shouldn't waste your time on Al Damon. Take out Al Mualim. I don't know what is is planning, but whatever it is, I do not like it."

"The Apple?" Altaïr asked, tilting his head to the side, walking closer to Malik, avoiding the random thought of '_Has Malik always looked that cute when he's thinking?_' that passed his mind.

"Yes... The object I had obtained from Solomon's Temple those many years ago. I'm not surprised that Al Mualim hadn't allowed you to know about it. I did a bit of research after I was put in charge of the bureau. And honestly, I wish I returned to Masyaf with my tail between my legs than have brought it back. It is said to be able to control a person, take over their will and what they are able to do and say. It's a terrible object, and in the wrong hands, like Al Mualim, the end result could be catastrophic."

Altaïr nodded his head and lowered his head, hiding his face from view with his hood. Where exactly would Al Mualim be hiding? Inside the tower, no doubt, but it was impossible to predict exactly where. When he was rescuing the Dai from it he had seen how big it really was, in both height and in underground passages.

"Altaïr?"

The assassin looked up, looking to Malik, who had a brow raised. "Hm?"

"Do you have a plan?" He hesitated then shook his head, slowly. "Why not take a break. You haven't rested. It will give us time to come up with a proper plan, and since I do not see Al Mualim breaking his friendly act anytime soon, it gives us time."

Altaïr was hesitant to agree, but didn't see any other option, so he nodded, lowering his head once more. Malik watched him for a moment then leaned forward, reaching out and grabbing his arm, making the assassin look at him confused. "Just lay down and rest," he said, his cold attitude coming out once more from the slight frustration he was feeling about the other man. The assassin blinked and nodded heading to the door to head back to his cushions. "Wait... I meant... here..." Malik corrected, lowering his gazed from Altaïr's confused look. When he dared to look up, he noticed the other blushing, and blinked confused. "Brother?"

Altaïr stood still for a moment, then stepped forward heading back to the bed. He was shy and hesitant, a side that Malik had not seen from him before, as he slowly got in the bed next to him, but not under the covers. He laid his head down on his arm, and closed his eyes, not saying a word. The Dai watched him, curiously, and lightly smiled laying back down and closing his eyes as well. It was comforting having the assassin so close to him, and allowed him to fall asleep quickly, something he hadn't been able to do since before his brother had died.

Altaïr listened to the sound of Malik's breathing, daring to open his eyes with his breath slowed, indicating that he was truly asleep. He observed Malik as his one had curled around his assassin's robes, not giving him an inch to leave, not that he wanted to. He slowly raised his hand and brushed it against Malik's cheek, enjoying the reaction he got of the Dai smiling leaning his head up against his hand.

"I'll never let them hurt you again, Malik. I swear on my life."

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

Sophie Aiyana: I feel bad for Malik, Altaïr tortures him so with his lack of communication. Silly assassin, stop being so internal!

191026: I'd love to see that! I've been thinking of drawing something like that, but it all stays in my mind due to the fact that my hand has a mind of it's own and ends up drawing him shirtless xD

jackkeroauc: Glad you like it :)

Tom Riddle III: Don't worry, I am kind of the same, though I have beat it two or three times by now, every time I have replayed it in the past I have stopped and stumbled to a halt because of laziness xD

malik's girl: yeah it was :3 I love Toby Turner xD

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><p><strong>Side Note:<strong>  
>Has anyone ever thought of making their pets wear assassin robes? My neighbors are a really loud bunch, and my friend and I were discussing having my cat go and assassinate them while they are partying. I promised my cat if he did so that I'd make him some assassin robes exactly like Altaïr's. I'm thinking of doing that anyway, just for the hell of it. What do you guys think? xD<p>

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><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:  
>Remember! If you want to see a pairing for a Short 'N Fluffy mini story just list the two characters, and what the setting will be (or an idea of what you want to see) and I'll work from there. Simply leave me a comment on DA, my email, or in a review!<p>

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><p>Featuring: Doctor and Federico<p>

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><p>Requested by: No one... Just something that came out of my imagination xD<p>

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><p>Federico scowled as he left the house. Petruccio had made him promise to go see a doctor after he returned home with a gash in his shoulder. He was reluctant, only because he hated doctors. It wasn't the fact that they probed people's bodies or enjoyed a job so little people enjoyed, it was the mask. It was odd to him that someone would cover their face as such, and expect people to trust him.<p>

As he rounded the corner, he thought of what he could say to the doctor about how he got the cut. Boys being boys and fighting? Yes, that would be believable, and more likely to happen then not. He approached the doctor, who was looking down at a jar with leeches in it, and lightly coughed.

"Welcome! Can I interest you in some medicine today?" he asked, then noticed the gash on his shoulder, clicking his tongue together to make a "tsk tsk" sound as he stepped forward and looked at his arm. "Signore Auditore, you being the oldest of your siblings, I would think you'd have a little more restraint than to go ahead and get into sword fights," he scolded, rolling up his sleeve.

"Signore... can I ask you to please remove your mask? It makes me... uncomfortable..." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh..." He looked around for a moment, then nodded, gesturing him to follow. Curious, Federico followed him into the alleyway behind his cart. "I don't normally do this, but since you are one of my favorite customers..." he trailed off, removing his mask.

Federico was shocked, to say the least, to find a young man about the same age as him. "You're...so young," he noted, confused.

"Hah, yes. I hide my face since no one would trust a young doctor like myself. I trained under my father since I was five, and I am now twenty-four, so it's not like I do not know what I am doing..." he stated, holding his hands together, while still holding his mask with his pinky finger on his right hand.

"Well, as long as you get the job done," Federico stated, heading back out to the cart.

The doctor smiled, nodding his head as he slipped on his mask, following him out as he picked up his supplies to clean the wound. As Federico watched him, he couldn't help himself by feeling less scared about the man, and more interested about the young doctor. As he paid him and left, he found himself more reluctant to leave. Maybe he could find another reason to visit him soon? He walked back home, staring at the sky as it began to set. Maybe tomorrow he could fake sick and get him to remove his mask again? He smiled at the thought, nodding his head and stretching upward. He'd have to get up early to visit him in the morning.

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><p><strong>Side note about this mini-story<strong>:  
>Should I make this into a one-shot? I rather like it, but I'm not sure if I should or not xD<p>

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><p>Please review and let me know how you like it :)<br>Until next time~ :D


	8. Chapter 8

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 8<p>

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><p>The next week passed by with nothing eventful. Malon Al Damon and Al Mualim seemed to have disappeared, and the more information Altaïr sought, the less he would find out. No one seemed to know anything, which frustrated him and left him with nothing to do but sit and listen.<p>

The assassin scowled, walking into the bureau, walking into Malik's room. The Dai was in the process of getting dressed, but was having trouble with his sore muscles and wounds all over. Without saying anything, he stepped forward and helped him into his shirt, and pulled his robe on over it.

"Nothing new I take it?" The Dai asked, looking back at Altaïr, who shook his head, frustratingly sighing as he plopped back against the bed, and laying back to stare at the ceiling. "It's rather odd, but I suppose all we can do is wait."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Waiting is so dull." Malik smiled, and sat down next to him, laying his hand on his arm. Altaïr looked up, making eye contact and leaned up, laying his face into Malik's neck closing his eyes. "What do you do around here when there's nothing going on?" he asked, trying his best to sound as if he was whining, but failing.

Malik let out a dry laugh and ruffled the assassin's hair, "There's plenty to do, you are just not use to a slow life."

Altaïr let out a sigh and moved over leaning his head against Malik's thigh, closing his eyes. "How are your wounds brother?" he asked, slowly opening his eyes to look up at him.

"As well as they should be, I suppose."

The assassin sat up, and raised a brow "Maybe I should take a look at them," he stated, touching his shirt, almost pawing at it to try and take it off. Malik shook his head and pushed his hand away, standing up moving his arm.

"I am fine, do not worry." The Dai headed to the door, and looked back at him, "Would you like to accompany me to the marketplace? I wish to speak to a few associates to see if they know anything about Al Damon or Al Mualim."

Altaïr nodded, and stood up, following him out the door, watching him secure and lock some doors and climbed out of the bureau with the Dai behind him. They carefully hopped down from the roof, and headed down the street, Malik observing the taller man from the corner of his eye.

They both were silent as they walked towards the market. Both were sneaking in looks when they other wasn't paying attention, wondering what the other was thinking. They turned the corner, Malik almost being knocked over as a man that was half his size ran into him, out of breath, gasping as he smacked into the Dai.

"Malik! I'm sorry! I was just heading to you now! I need to...speak with you," he stated, lowering his voice as he looked around frantically.

"Talta, what is the matter?"

"No time to talk, we need to get out of the open, follow me."

The small man, seeming to only be in his late teens, rushed to the side, heading down the streets in a rush. The Dai gave Altaïr a worried glance, before following him, the assassin close behind. They followed the man, only pausing ever so often to check if they were followed, and headed deep into the poor district of Jerusalem. It was a few minutes before both Altaïr and Malik were feeling uneasy with all the people moaning around them, begging for change, scars on the sides of their heads indicating experimentation.

The man turned them into a small house, ushering them in, watching as the assassin and Dai stared at him, searching for an answer without asking the questions. "Everyone is fooled, brothers," Talta started, as he closed the door. "Malon Al Damon has everyone fooled, him and the hooded man... They are continuing the wrong that they have covered up. But dumps his...people, like trash in the streets. My sister, he kidnapped her! Experimented on her brain! Threw her into the streets to find her own way home. My brother found her, brought her here, and now all she does is walk around, not saying a word. As if her soul was taken from her body. She was so full of life!"

Altaïr frowned, looking to Malik, who's brows were furrowed in thought. "Do you know of their where a bouts?" the assassin asked softly, turning his attention to Talta, who nodded his head once, his lips thinned, face red with rage.

"There is a tower in between Masyaf and Jerusalem, it is said to be different than the others, more taller, and has assassin flags on the back of it, hidden from the world, and Templar flags in the front. My brother followed them there the other night. He is currently around that area, and he would be able to tell you more information if there is..."

"This information has been most helpful. Thank you, brother. Safety and peace," Malik stated, bowing his head, turning to leave the house.

Before Altaïr was able to follow, Talta reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him to face him once more. "Kill them, assassin... kill them both... They do not deserve the lives that they have, and they cannot be allowed to steal any more," he stated through clenched teeth.

"I will," he responded, turning his back to him as he let go of his arm, and left the house.

"I will ready a couple of horses for the journey," Malik stated when Altaïr came up next to him in front of the house.

"You aren't coming with me," the assassin stated sternly. Malik opened his mouth to protest, but shut it as Altaïr's glaring eyes met his own. "I'm not having you hurt by them again, Malik. I can not bare to see you in pain again..."

The Dai blinked, watching as the normally serious and cold assassin's face contorted into something that looked like he was about to cry. "If... it means that much to you," he stated at a whisper, "I will not go." Altaïr nodded in return, staying silent as he tried to get his expressionless mask back, rubbing his face. "But if you do not come back in one piece, I swear," Malik held up his fist slightly, then dropped it letting out a sigh as he lowered his head.

Altaïr stared at the Dai for a moment, then nodded his head, following him as he started to move. He watched his back, not saying a word as they walked in silence. They stopped by an alleyway, Malik not moving as Altaïr walked next to him, looking at him a brow arched slightly wondering what the other man was doing. In an instant, the Dai grabbed the assassin's arm and dragged him into the alleyway, away from the site of others and pushed him against the wall kissing him roughly.

The taller man blinked, shocked, then kissed him back, closing his eyes. As fast as it started, the kiss ended, Malik glaring up into Altaïr's eyes as he lifted his hand pointing at the taller man, "I swear, if you don't come back... If you die... I'll find some way to bring you back to life and kill you myself."

"Malik..."

"Let's go," Malik interrupted, turning and walking out of the alleyway and heading to the horse stables. Altaïr followed close behind, not taking his eyes off the Dai's back as they walked. He pulled a horse from under the covering of the stable, and led it over to the assassin, handing him the reigns. "Be careful, novice," he stated, turning his back to him once again, heading back to the bureau.

At the sudden declaration of Altaïr being a "novice" once more, made him blink and watch him till he turned a corner. It confused the assassin, but the nudging of the horse trying to make it's way back to the hay pile in the stable jerked him from his thoughts. "I'll just have to complete my mission and be done with it," he muttered to the horse, mounting it and nudging it to move forward, shouting a curt "Hah!" making the horse break into a gallop.

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><p>Malik jumped down into the bureau, questioning why he was feeling this way. He knew that he was in love with the other man, but the feelings of possessiveness he was feeling was completely foreign to him. He hated to see him leave him, which was why he found himself running away from Altaïr before he rode off. He scowled at himself, stepping into the bureau then paused seeing a man standing at his desk, fingering through his collection of maps.<p>

"Can I help you?" he asked, raising a brow. The man turned, making Malik freeze and snarl, "Al Mualim. What are you doing here? You are not welcome."

Al Mualim clicked his tongue against the roof of his jaw, smirking as he stepped forward, holding out his arms, "Now Malik, is that a way you should address your master?" he asked, grinning as the Dai glared at him.

"You are no longer my master," Malik stated, swiftly tossing a knife towards him, rushing forward as the man scooted to the left to avoid the blade. He swung his fist forward, slamming it hard against the other man's head, knocking him to the side.

Al Mualim cackled, disappearing, "Dear, Rafiq. You of all people should know of the power the Apple of Eden has. After all, you were snooping around, researching about it while you recovered over the amputation of your arm... Or was it that you forgot?"

Malik kept his eyes scouring the bureau, ignoring the man's jeers. Yes, he knew of the power of the Apple, but he also knew that the man had to be close. There was no way he could project his voice that far from their location, or at least he hoped as much.

He quickly ducked hearing the sound of something cutting through the silent air. He looked behind him seeing the knife he had previously thrown now lodged into the wood of the wall. He listened as the man came up behind him, apple in hand. He didn't make a move to show he knew he was behind him, simply took a few steps forward then flung around ducking down tripping the older man to tumble to the floor, the Apple rolling out of site under the Dai's desk.

Malik jumped forward onto the man, grabbing at his neck, squeezing slightly, watching as he glared at him, his hands on Malik's wrist. "Tell me one good reason I should spare your life," he snarled, angrily.

"You do not know the real reason of anything, Malik," the man said softly, staring up at him. "If you kill me, you will find many unanswered secrets that will never be answered. The dead don't reveal their secrets after they have taken them to the grave. You should know this, especially with all the secrets that Kadar kept."

"Don't _ever_say my brother's name again!" The Dai squeezed harder, making the older man clench his teeth, a choking sound erupting from his lips. He waited a moment, then moved his hand slightly, swiftly pulling a knife from up his sleeve then slicing his old mentor's throat, silencing him for once and for all.

Malik stood, rubbing the back of his neck, scowling at the mess the blood was making of his floor as it pooled underneath Al Mualim. He walked around his desk, then bent over fishing the Apple from it's hiding place, and headed to the back to the store room, placing it in a flour bag, then closing the door behind him and locking it.

"I hope Altaïr is alright," he murmured to himself, staring down at his hand, letting out a soft sigh.

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><p>Altaïr skidding his horse to a halt, a man in a white hooded cloak stepping out in the middle of the road. He slowly removed his hood, stepping up to the side of his horse, looking up at him. He had the same nose, and chin as Talta, indicating that this was the brother the other man spoke of.<p>

"You are the assassin?" he asked, earning a nod from the man on the horse. "Please, follow me, we cannot talk in the open," he stated, rushing off to the side to hide behind a small house off the side of the road.

Altaïr dismounted the horse, then lead it to a pile of hay, then following the man behind the house sitting on a bench next to him. They were silent at first, before the man shifted, removing his hood looking to him.

"Al Mualim left earlier this morning, but Malon Al Damon resides inside the tower just a few minutes ride ahead. He only comes out during the dead of night, and lately that has only been when he is accompanied by Al Mualim, or many guards. You can use me as a distraction, or anything you like. I just want that man dead."

The assassin admired the man, nodding and standing patting his shoulder. "I will go on alone, if we travel together it might be a little suspicious and could cause the plan to fail."

"You have a plan?"

Altaïr smirked and nodded his head, stepping away from the man, heading back to his horse, and carefully mounting it. He looked around, then began to trot down the road, keeping an eye out for any guards. Upon spotting one, he smiled thanking his luck that it was one with a helmet, and parked his horse to the side, climbing up a ledge, carefully stalking him. He came to a halt, watching as the man turned his back completely to him, and smirked pouncing down and stabbing him through his armor.

Carefully, he dragged him to the side and undressed him, leaving him dead behind a bush as he shoved on the armor quickly. It was uncomfortably baggy, but had to do as he walked ahead at a steady pace, the helmet covering his head uncomfortably. The mask over his face made him feel sweaty and itchy, but ignored it as he approached the tower. He made a hole in his glove so that his hidden blade could retract freely, and entered the tower slowly, earning nods from the two guards inside at the entrance.

He counted his blessings as he stalked around, acting nonchalant as he searched the tower for Malon Al Damon. It wasn't a particularly big tower, despite what Talta stated, and he couldn't find stairs that lead down, so the only way he could really go was up. Before he started his searching climb, he made one more round around the ground level, playing his part as a Templar soldier and pretending to be watching over the tower.

"Ah, you!" Altaïr blinked and turned around seeing another guard, gesturing him to come near. He did as he was told, making sure to keep his mouth shut as he did. "I was looking for you, Malon Al Damon is moving back to Jerusalem in a few minutes, we need all the guards we can get," he stated, moving his finger, telling him to follow him. This was to perfect, he'd be inches away from his target, and if there was only a few guards he could easily kill him then fight them off, or even run if he had to. As long as Al Damon was killed, that was what mattered...

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

Stylet-Rouge: D'aw, you make me smile. I'm glad you are enjoying the story, and I really think I will make it into a one shot. I love the whole idea of it xD.

Jackkeroauc: I use to dress up my cats when I was younger, never tried recently, or with anything "good" for that matter. I might just go ahead and do it just to see if I can make it look good :P

Tom Riddle III: lol. Would it help if I said "patience is a virtue?" 8D...probably not. Well -rubs back of head- would it help if I hinted there was a sexy scene coming relatively soon? :D

191026: I'm sorry to hear about your guinea pig D: It really sucks when you loose a pet. It's so sad :( But thank you, I am really flattered and really glad you are enjoying the story. I hope you continue to enjoy it~

xxAREESHAxx: Glad you like it. :3 Doing my job right then~ I love seeing any kind of fan art, especially assassin's creed related, I particularly like doodling a lot, but 99% of my stuff never makes it to DA. XD But I am the exact opposite, I can not draw girls to save my life. Guy's figures, facial expressions, poses, a breeze. When it comes to girl expressions, they generally turn out manly =w=;

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><p><strong>Side Note:<strong>

Wow, this update took longer than intended. I don't know why, but every time I sat down to write this chapter, something popped up making me have to drop what I was doing. Hopefully that will not happen for this next chapter. I really hope you guys liked this chapter, and for those of you waiting for the one shot with the doctor and Federico, don't fret! I will be working on it along with the next chapter of this story, I already have the basic plot of what is going to happen n' stuff, just leaves the actual going on's of the story xD

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><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:

None this chapter since no one has requested any pairings and I didn't really have a muse for any other set of couples with anything cute. Just mindless attempts to kill different people, 'n such. God, I'm a violent person o-o;... Please, if you have a request do not be shy, ask away~

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><p>Please review and let me know how you like this chapter :)<br>Until next time~ :D


	9. Chapter 9

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 9<p>

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><p><strong>WARNING<strong>: This chapter does contain a sex scene. I will place a warning before the scene to indicate when it is close/starting so that anyone who doesn't wish to read it can skip it. The scene has no alterations of the storyline or the plot, so do not feel obligated if you do not wish to read it.

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><p>Marching seemed to make everything take a while. The way soldier's carried themselves, and the way they marched down the road, stopping every so often to make sure Malon Al Damon was fine with the speed on his horse, then carrying on once he moved his hand. The man didn't seem lifeless, or soulless, which confused Altaïr. He didn't stand to far behind the man, who carried himself high on his horse as if he were a god, but didn't make any move to kill him yet. Being cautious was not this assassin's forte, but he didn't fancy another failed attempt at killing him either. He would wait until the time was right, till he could be sure to kill him and be done with it.<p>

There were a lot more guards than he was lead to believe there were going to be. Three on both sides of his target, two rows behind him, and two rows in front. Altaïr marched behind him, but being this enclosed also made him have a narrow chance of escape. He was praising his luck earlier, but now was cursing how it turned from good to bad.

"Sir! Sir!"

A short man, covered in white garments sprinted forward, breathing deeply. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stood upright looking up at Malon Al Damon, "Al Mualim is missing. We cannot find him," he stated, sounding more panicked than he looked.

Malon Al Damon was silent for a moment, before thinning his lips, dismounting his horse. He looked around, pointing at a few soldiers, then stopping and pointing at Altaïr, "You seven, come with me. We are marching to Jerusalem alone."

"Sir, I have to disagree with this choice," the white clothed man stated, holding up his hand.

"Then come with us as well, I believe it is a fools choice to go in with many men. The assassin could easily sneak into our ranks."

"Going in with any less of the men we have here now could kill you!"

"Silence! I will not have a quarrel with you any longer!"

Malon turned, his cape bellowing behind him as the seven, including Altaïr, rushed after him. The man in white clothes let out a sigh, slowly following behind them, shaking his head.

This would be much easier to slay the man who didn't even cloak himself in suitable armor. If he timed it right, he could have him killed and gone in a flash, in a manner of seconds, without so much as a scratch or any trouble. He smirked under his helmet, marching behind the man, biting his lower lip in anticipation. When they marched out of the way of the other guards, he looked above seeing archers on the ledges of the rocky cliffs. They would be his only problem, or it would seem.

He flicked his hidden blade out, hiding it with his hand as he stepped closer, seconds away from being able to strike. He quickly put it away as Malon turned and looked at him, then to the other soldiers. "This assassin has killed my son... this Altaïr... He has threatened what we live for, what we fight for. He has threatened my brothers, and I fear he has taken the life of Al Mualim as well. If you see anyone... _Anyone_, in white robes as such as a assassin wears, kill them."

"Yes, sir," the soldier's chimed, Altaïr keeping quiet as he stared at the man hatefully. Why was it that all of his targets always claimed to be doing something good? He never quite understood, but this man harmed Malik... _his _Dai, and for that he deserved death.

As the man turned around, he couldn't bare to have anyone die in his stead, and chose to strike then. He stepped forward, jolting his hand forward, his blade touching a fatal spot if the metal were pierced into his back, "What good is your cause, Templar?" he sneered in the man's ear at a whisper.

"If you only knew, Altaïr," the other man snickered. "I won't tell you anything, assassin, you might as well kill me now." Altaïr paused a moment, listening as the guards behind him all pulled out their swords, shouting warnings at him to let their master go. "Just remember, assassin. I am allowing you the honor of taking my life.." he murmured with a laugh. "I knew you were the man marching behind me. It may not make sense, but you will see in time that the deeds Al Mualim and I have started will reign on in the hearts of men. You cannot stop it."

Altaïr growled, not wanting to hear another word, then stabbed his hidden blade into his back, holding a feather to the wound as he pulled the blade out, collecting a bit of his blood. He pulled his hand back, letting them man drop forward before taking off in a sprint, tearing off the filthy Templar armor that he wore, and only pausing for a moment to shove the feather in a pouch. As soon as he tossed off his helmet, a force lurched him forward, a searing pain jolting from his shoulder as he skidded to the ground. He skillfully got to his feet, rushing forward towards a group of guards who were originally just observing from afar. He pulled out his sword, running at one, stabbing him in the stomach, pulling it out and slicing at another one's back deflecting a blow in the process. He was quick to break free from this group, sprinting forward, knowing that just over this hill was the home-free sight of Jerusalem.

As if an angel had touched him on the head, Talta's brother galloped forward on the back of a grey horse, holding the reigns of another yelling at the assassin to get on. He counted yet another one of his blessings, jumping on the horse, galloping up the slope, the man at his side. "You're hurt," the man noted, as they were quickly loosing the guards that still had the nerve to chase him. Altaïr nodded, shrugging off the statement, taking a second to look behind him to see what had struck him before. A arrow stuck out of his shoulder, making him grimace at the sudden realization that there was something en-lodged in his shoulder.

He nodded at the man, as he skidded to the side, waving at Altaïr as the assassin continued to gallop forward, past a group of people, who shouted at him to slow down. Slow down? That's the last thing he wanted to do. He needed to get out of the open now, in case any guards were able to be blessed by finding him. He was able to make it to the gates of Jerusalem, and was surprised to see the gates void from guards as he dismounted the horse and entered the city, heading for the bureau as fast as he could.

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><p>Altaïr jumped down into the bureau. He didn't expect Malik to be waiting for him, but was still hopeful that the Dai was inside. When he didn't spot him at his normal location, he frowned and looked around, looking for him. He paused, blushing a slight pink tint as he peaked into the washroom door seeing the other cleaning himself off. He turned his back to the door, heading to find the bandages that Malik had kept when he heard his name.<p>

"Altaïr?" He turned to see Malik at the door, peaking out, hiding his naked body behind the door. "Oh Allah, get in here so we can have that removed!" he commanded, no doubt talking about the arrow sticking out from the back of his shoulder. The assassin lowered his head, letting his hood cover half his face as he entered the wash room avoiding looking at Malik at all cost. "Sit down, let me get some water and cloths," he stated, leaving the room, only to come back wearing a pair of rolled up pants a bowl of water, and cloths being held between his chin and chest.

Altaïr grimaced as he felt Malik ripping his robes slightly to get to the arrow. He felt the Dai pause for a moment before snapping the arrow leaving a bit out, and standing. "I need you to take off your robes, It might get a little bloody, and I don't want to get them more redder in the process of getting it out," he stated.

The assassin growled slightly, not wanting to even deal with the wound, but did as he was told, standing and stripping down to wearing his pants and boots. He sat down once more, and closed his eyes tight, waiting for the pain he knew he'd be feeling. He started counting in his head, '_One, two, three, four, five, si-_' Altaïr screamed out as Malik pried in the wound, attempting to get it out.

A few minutes of prying with his one hand, finally allowed Malik to pull it out, with blood covering his hand and Altaïr's back. Malik grabbed the cloth, and pressed it hard against the wound, leaving the assassin panting as his shoulder throbbed in pain. "Maybe I should get a doctor," Malik asked, after a few seconds. The assassin shook his head looking over at the Dai from over his shoulder.

"You're the best doctor I could ask for," he stated with a smile.

Malik tried to hide his smile, as he checked on the wound, then grabbing another cloth dipping it in the water, cleaning out the wound, and the blood on him. Once he was cleaned up, he took the herbs and bandages, placing the herbs over the wound and doing his best to wrap the bandage around his body to be secure over the wound.

"Al Mualim is missing..." Altaïr stated, feeling Malik's hand steady to a halt for a moment, then continue wrapping the bandages around handing the assassin the roll to hold as he reached around to retrieve it from him. The Dai muttered a soft "mmm" of a hum, not really making any other indication that he even heard Altaïr. "But I swear, I will hunt him down and find him. Even if he is our master..."

"There will be no need for that," Malik stated, handing Altaïr the last of the bandage, "Tie it, please," he instructed, dipping his hands in the water cleaning off the excess blood on his hands.

"No need? But he needs to be stopped, Malik."

"He has been," he stated, sounding calmer than Altaïr, who turned looking to him puzzled. Malik raised his eyes, looking to the taller man and let a soft sigh escape his lips as he stood "I disposed of him shortly after you set out to kill Malon Al Damon... You _did _succeed in your mission, did you not?"

Altaïr shivered ever so slightly under the Dai's glaring gaze, "Yes, Rafiq. I did as I was instructed," he stated, leaning over his piles of clothes, pulling out the feather coated in blood.

Malik's eyes softened and he nodded, "Good." He left the room, ignoring as the assassin stood, following him, his mind a blaze with questions on what happened with Al Mualim. It was then that Altaïr noticed the blood stained floor that Malik had not cleaned up yet, and the drag marks of the blood that lead to the store room. "I haven't had a chance to clean it up," Malik stated, rubbing the back of his head looking down at the mess.

"What happened?" Altaïr pressed, earning a shrug in return.

"He was here waiting for me. I don't exactly know why, I simply did what I had to do, and what I knew I had to do."

The assassin watched him as the smaller man grimaced and looked away, almost as if he was ashamed of what he did. He turned his back to Altaïr and headed to his room, avoiding any more conversation. The now alone assassin stared down at the not fully dried blood stain, then turned going into the wash room obtaining a cloth and bowl of water, set out to clean the blood as best as he could. It was the least he could do. Malik had rid of his target for him while he was out, even if he wasn't intending to do so. The world was possibly safer now without the threat of their traitorous master.

As he scrubbed at the blood, he couldn't help his mind reflecting on the past, and about how the man who's blood was on the floor, the man who practically raised him more than his actual parents, was now dead. It was almost hard to believe any of this was actually happening. All he was doing was that of what he was trained to do, what he was raised to do. He half wondered what his parents would think, if they were alive today. Would they commend Malik and him for ridding the assassins of a traitor? Or would they scold them and tell them there was a way around this? He honestly didn't know, and just dismissed the thought, focusing on getting as much of the blood cleaned up without further hurting his shoulder.

After everything was cleaned up, Altaïr stood up straight, stretching his back by leaning back slightly. He picked up the bowl and cloth, putting them away and dumping out the dirty water, then washing off his hands. He decided that the Dai had, had enough time on his own, and went to check on him.

Malik sat Indian style on the bed, his back facing the door. The assassin paused a moment, coughing lightly to let the other know he was entering, and giving him a chance to tell him to go away. He scooted onto the bed, reaching out his hand to touch Malik's shoulder softly, which he felt was tense.

"I just don't understand why our master would do such a thing," Malik said after a moment of silence. He allowed himself to scoot back, leaning his back against Altaïr's chest and closing his eyes.

"Nor do I, brother," he responded, slowly wrapping his arms around his waist, holding him in place. It was silent once again, all that could be heard was the two's soft breathing. Altaïr thought that Malik had fallen asleep at one point, but was proven wrong as Malik turned, sliding in his lap placing his hand on the taller man's cheek.

"Are we really doing the right thing for the world?" he questioned.

Altaïr shook his head, "I don't know, but there's not much more we can do other than fight for the people. Without them, what would our world be?"

Malik smiled lightly, "It seems you have grown wiser," the Dai stared up into the amber eyes that captivated him. They both were silent, staring at each other enjoying the feeling of being so close to one another.

** Do not read further if you do not wish to read the sexual encounter**

They weren't exactly sure who made the first move, but their lips had crashed against one another into a sweet yet affectionate kiss. It was a matter of minutes before lips parted, and their tongues caressed over each other, in a rough tango. Malik turned pink as Altaïr's hand cupped the small of his back, laying him back to lay on the bed. The taller man kept in the back of his mind that the other was still injured, as was he, but knowing that didn't slow him down as his hands explored down the Dai's exposed chest, caressing every curve of his muscles leading down to his abdomen.

"Is this alright?" Altaïr murmured, moving his head away, nipping at Malik's neck, earning a soft whimper as the other nodded, clutching at the other man's back with his one hand. Malik closed his eyes, feeling the other man remove his pants a little more rougher than intended, and gasped, his eyes shooting back open as he felt the man's hand clamp onto his member and begin to stroke it tenderly.

Low moans erupted in the room, coming from Malik's lips as Altaïr stroked him, kissing up and down his neck. Just as the Dai started to crave more, the assassin snaked his hand up, thrusting his fingers into the smaller man's mouth, which he sucked, moving his tongue over them tenderly. Once Altaïr was sure his fingers were well coated with saliva, he removed them, earning a soft sigh from the man underneath him as he lowered them to press against Malik's tight ring of muscles below.

The first finger entered easily, feeling around as if looking for some hidden treasure inside. Malik wasn't sure it was enough, lowering his face to lick at Altaïr's shoulder, murmuring a soft "more" in the other's ear. Altaïr was only to eager to comply with the Dai's request as he slipped a second finger in, thrusting them inside, working to stretch him.

Malik was beginning to think of himself as a masochist as he longed for more, his mouth opened panting lightly as he sought to bite at the assassin's ear. "Why are your pants still on?" he asked, huskily in the other's ear.

Altaïr nearly moaned at the statement, making him smirk and watch the other sit up, removing his fingers from Malik's lower regions. He kicked off his shoes before he moved his pants down, his member sticking upright revealing his want that was hiding beneath the fabric. At this site, Malik could no longer contain himself as he sat up crushing his lips against the taller man's lips desperately, pressing their bodies together.

"Do you want me?" Altaïr whispered against Malik's lips, surprising the Dai of this question. He thought of the other as a little more shy about these kinds of things, but the lust and affection beaming from his eyes spoke otherwise, leaving him speechless as he nodded his head. "Say it," he whispered, caressing his stubbly jaw, smirking at the dumbfounded expression the Dai was giving him.

"I want you," he whispered, finding it hard to speak, the man in front of him revealing a side of him that not only left him feeling hot and flustered, but intimidated. Normally Malik was the one to be cocky, and seemed to know what to say, and how to jeer at someone, but Altaïr's mask was now tossed aside. He was no longer the man who followed his masters orders like a faithful lap dog. He was now the master.

Altaïr didn't say anything, laying Malik back down on his back, licking at a nipple as he stroked his own member, "If it hurts to much, just tell me," he whispered, licking over a pectoral, looking up at the smaller man as he lifted his legs to drape over his shoulders. The assassin didn't bother waiting for the other man's permission, as he reached down positioning the head of his cock at the entrance of Malik's throbbing hole.

As the head slid past the tight ring of muscles, Malik held his breath, his body tense as the large object invaded the empty space inside him. It was foreign, but at the same time felt right, as he slowly slid into place, sheathing all of Altaïr. The Dai panted, clinging to the bed cloths as he held his eyes closed tight. He wanted this, why was he showing such expressions if this was what he wanted?

Altaïr reached down, taking his hand in his and brought it up by his hand, leaning down and kissing his temple, "I can stop..." he whispered, earning a strong shake of the head in return.

"No... keep going," he instructed, opening his eyes to show his lustful tears of passion.

The assassin nodded, pressing his lips to Malik's, kissing him tenderly as he began to move his hips thrusting inside him in and out. As the friction increased, the pain started to dull, leaving a burning passion that began to weld up in his abdomen. Where was the pain? What did it feel like, again? Malik didn't know as he began to moan, moving his hips downward to increase the speed of Altaïr.

Altaïr smirked, feeling Malik's want, beginning to speed up, slamming inside him against a spot that Malik didn't even know existed making him almost scream out, clutching at the larger man's hand in ecstasy.

"Malik..." Altaïr moaned out his name, feeling his orgasm coming close as Malik arched his back, his cock aching and swelled almost ready to burst out the juices that were threatening to escape.

He cried out his name louder than intended as his seed exploded out onto his stomach and Altaïr's chest. Not even a moment passed as Altaïr thrust once more, harder than before, inside of Malik filling him with the hot liquid that was proof of the assassin's completion. He collapsed on top of the other, panting as Malik clung to his back, holding him close as the other man kissed at his neck lovingly.

"I love you Malik," Altaïr whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Altaïr," Malik grumbled, on the brink of passing out. The assassin slowly sat up, pulling out of the other, despite his groans of protest, and left the room retrieving a clean cloth, cleaning himself off, then retrieving another as he walked back to the room. He smiled, seeing the Dai fast asleep, breathing slowly, slightly curled up, but proceeded to his side, cleaning him up. He tossed the cloth to the floor, crawling back into bed, pulling the blanket up over them and hugged Malik's back against his chest.

The assassin was happy. He had the man he loved most of all in his arms, and the two men they had sought out to kill were now dead and no longer had a reason to be feared. He smiled against Malik's shoulder, letting sleep overcome him as he planned a talk with Malik that he would have with him in the morning.

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

191026: Ohh, my cat was that way. It's really sad, but it happens unfortunately. Oh and the alleyway scene had been scratching at the back of my mind for a few weeks now, I'm really glad you liked it :D

dracofreak3: woah, a pairing I have never thought about o_o; Challenge accepted!

XxAREESHAxx: Challenge accepted! Your pairing shall be in the next chapter, I promise.

Tom Riddle III: -tosses yaoi cookies to you- ;D

BADAZZtoldya: Glad you like it~

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><p><strong>Side Note:<strong>  
>I had a concern revealed to me in an email from a anonymous reviewer, and I thought I'd address it here: Though it seems like this story is coming to an end (it may or may not be, we'll see~) you have to keep in mind that there is much more to elaborate off of. The story will either be longer, or a sequel will arise. I promise you that I will not leave these two beautiful characters in the dust.<p>

With that being said, I hope that you all will continue to read this story and enjoy it :)

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><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:  
>Remember! If you want to see a pairing for a Short 'N Fluffy mini story just list the two characters, and what the setting will be (or an idea of what you want to see) and I'll work from there. Simply leave me a comment on DA, my email, or in a review!<p>

* * *

><p>Featuring: Desmond and Leonardo<p>

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><p>Requested by: dracofreak3<p>

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><p><em>"Ezio, what do you think of this design?"<em>

_"Ezio, did you have another Codex Page?"_

_"Ezio, what did you think about the flight?"_

_"Ezio, Ezio, Ezio"_

Desmond shot out of the animus, scowling, ignoring the cries of "Are you alright?" from Lucy and Rebecca. Shaun simply stayed in his chair, staring at the other man unable to come up with a smart-ass comment as he watched Desmond pace angrily.

"Why is it always him?" Desmond raged, grabbing a stack of papers and throwing it off to the side.

"Oh, well. That is just dandy. What are you going on about?" Shaun asked, finally standing, pushing up his glasses slightly tilting his head to the side.

"What is so fucking special about Ezio? What makes him so great as he gets to be_ near _him?" he asked, not making any sense to the three who stood around him.

"Desmond, calm down. We are here for you, what exactly is the matter?" Lucy asked, not daring to move any closer to the man.

"Nothing, just nothing," Desmond stated pushing past them heading outside. It was particularly hard for Desmond, the bleeding effect was taking it's toll on him, and he was growing to hate going into the animus to relive his ancestor's life. It wasn't more or less the fact that he had to do it that bugged him, but the sheer jealousy he was beginning to feel over Ezio. Every time Leonardo da Vinci came into the picture Desmond had a fit over not being able to control what his ancestor said or did.

Desmond stopped, and blinked as he looked over the town of Monteriggioni, the place Ezio worked so hard to transform and bring to life. He wondered at that moment if his fits were even worth it. Ezio was a great man, and without him he'd never even be here. Without everything he committed to the world could have turned out to be a truly terrible place.

He rubbed his hand over his head, sighing as he turned and walked back into the house and down to where Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca were. They stood from their seats, then sat back down when Desmond waved his hand to show he was alright. "Just needed air, sorry," he apologized, hopping back into the animus, allowing himself to be thrown back into Ezio's mind.

"Leonardo, I thank you for all your help," Ezio stated, hugging the smaller man, who returned it.

"Of course, friend. It is always a pleasure to help you."

Desmond cringed, trying to resist the urge to try and do something different. He was in control, but any time he did something different, he would be desyncronized, and forced to do it over until he got it right. The man pulled away from Ezio, and walked back over to his table, reading a piece of parchment as Desmond stared at his back.

"Leonardo, can I ask you something?" Desmond asked through Ezio, hoping... no, praying that everything would be fine. Leonardo nodded his head, turning to look at him once more. "Do you think there will ever be a way to travel through time?"

Leonardo blinked, and rubbed the back of his head, puzzled, "I heard there's a way, well a myth more to say, that allows you to go back into your ancestor's past and live through their actions. But this is only a myth, nothing like that really seems possible."

"Your telling me..." Desmond murmured, earning a raise of a brow from the other man. "It is possible, maybe not now, but in the future I know for sure there's a way."

"How do you know of this?"

Desmond resisted for a moment, watching as the world around him started to glitch more every step he took towards the thing he wanted to tell the painter. "I am currently doing it now. My name is Desmond Miles, and Ezio is one of my ancestors that I have been reliving the memories of," by this time, the scene around him was glitching out of control, causing him to almost loose his focus as he looked around at the shattering walls, "Leonardo, I have to tell you this before I loose my chance... I love you!"

Everything went white, and he found himself walking around in the animus, sighing. Once the scene around him came back, he found himself hugging Leonardo once more, as if what he said had never really happened. Forcing himself out of the animus, he jerked forward, clutching his head, shaking it as he felt himself in a wave of torture.

Shaun stepped forward, scowling as he shoved a piece of old paper in his hand. It was very delicate, and the paint that was scribbled on it was barely readable. It was in Italian, but a few words he could make out: Desmond Miles, and Ezio.

"What does it say?" he asked, raising a brow.

"It says 'Never forget Desmond Miles, the ancestor of my dear friend Ezio," Lucy said, coming up behind him.

"We found it back in 2010 when we discovered a trove of Leonardo da Vinci's old paintings. We didn't think anything of it, but kept it. Now, it makes a little more sense. I do not know how you did it, but you managed to get through to him somehow," Shaun stated, crossing his arms, leaning back against a table.

Desmond smiled, and stared down at the paper. He couldn't help himself, he had to keep trying at this point, even if the trio would be mad at him for doing so, he loved that man. The brilliant painter and inventor: Leonardo da Vinci.

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><p>Wow, long fluffy scene is long xD. Had to though, couldn't really think of any other situations without making it completely AU.<p>

Please review and let me know how you like it :)  
>Until next time~ :D<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 10<p>

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><p>Malik yawned, rolling over, using his hand to search for Altaïr as he moved his arm up and down the bed. When he was no where to be felt, he shot up and looked around, almost to desperately, for the assassin. Was last night just one of his many fantasies that were happening lately? As he saw up fully to sit on the edge of the bed his sore behind confirmed that what happened last night really did happen, making him flush and rub his neck in embarrassment. He had to push his thoughts back as the image of the taller man moaning popped into his head. The Dai sat up, and made his way over to his clothes laying on the floor, and slowly collected them before going to wash up.<p>

After he made sure he was clean, and dressed, trying his best to hide the marks on his neck and failing, he climbed up the wall of the bureau to look around for Altaïr. He walked to the edge of the building, and smiled as he looked down, conversing with someone he couldn't see. He stood and watched him for a moment, his eyes not daring to look away from him as he studied his back. It was something Malik use to do from afar, but now that the two had shown their feelings to one another, he did not feel ashamed.

It was odd that the other man had his hood down, but he didn't take a notice of that as he froze noticing that he was talking to a woman. He seemed to be smiling, something he rarely did with strangers. What shocked him more, was when a small boy, from what he guessed was about three years old and looked almost exactly like Altaïr, ran up to the two, and hopped up and down trying to get the assassin's attention.

Malik's heart fell. He didn't know what to do at this point. Was he being played? He shook his head, not willing to let his tears fall as he rushed back to the bureau to sit and angrily draw a messy map. Maybe he was overreacting? He didn't know.

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><p>An Hour Earlier<p>

Maria Thorpe sighed, holding her and Altaïr's son at her waist as she dodged people in Jerusalem. She didn't like the idea of seeing her son's father, but she knew she had to. The Ex-Templar had heard that the assassin had finished his mission, despite her dismay of the idea, and had to leave their son with him while she went overseas. She didn't like the idea of leaving Maj with his father, but had no other choice. She hoisted him upward, allowing him to climb up the rest of the wall, then followed him upward, and headed into the bureau.

As she made her way inside, looking around curiously, she was shocked to find the assassin and the Dai asleep in the same bed. She pushed Maj away from the door, telling him to sit on the cushions in the other room. She wasn't judging him in the slightest, despite what she was being screamed at by her "common sense" and walked over, lightly shaking him.

Altaïr groaned in protest, and opened an eye, looking up at her, and sat up blinking. "Maria?" he whispered, confused.

She dryly smiled, then gestured with her finger than he should follow, and left the room, Maj calling out that he was hungry. The assassin smiled at the sound of his son, and quickly got dressed in his clothes, leaving his hood off as he rushed out the door, carefully closing it so not to disturb Malik.

"Baba!" Maj shouted, rushing over to Altaïr and tackling him, as he hugged his son closely.

"Care to share?" Maria asked, moving her hand to point to Malik's door, raising her brow curiously. Altaïr coughed and looked away, wishing he could avoid the subject with his ex-lover. "After all we've been through, you think I'm going to condemn you to hell for your actions, don't you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"No, of course not. Just a longer story then I'd like to tell," he said softly, looking down at his son who was snuggled up to him perfectly content with being in his father's arms.

"So, that's Malik I assume?"

"Your memory is as good as ever," he commented, making her smile and nod her head in response, "What do I owe the pleasure of your early appearance?"

Maria shrugged and absentmindedly played with the end of her shirt, "I know we agreed that you and I would meet up in Masyaf, but I must go to Spain... I am needed there as soon as possible. There is no problem with this... correct?" she asked, clutching the shirt in her hand.

"Of course not," Altaïr lied, as he knew that Maj would probably get in the way of his and Malik's plans for the future for the Brotherhood. He watched as she smiled, and headed to the wall.

"Shall we go to out to converse?" she asked, turning to look back at him. He nodded and stepped forward, swinging Maj to cling to his back, the boy giggling all the while as he climbed up after her.

They sat on the roof, Maj climbing in his father's lap as Maria and Altaïr stared at each other a moment. "Are you happy?" she asked after a moment of silence.

He sat there a moment, then slowly nodded his head, "I am."

"He makes you happy?" she asked, meaning Malik.

"He does," he answered without hesitation.

"Altaïr... I might not come back..." she whispered after a moment.

"What about Maj?"

"I have talked to him... he knows. He knows he is to stay with you. There's nothing left for me here. You have your life, and I have mine. I cannot continue to chase your shadow watching over our son with nothing more to look forward to in my life. It was a lot to ask for our three year old, but he is smart, he knows what forever means, and he knows that this means we might never cross paths again...

"But this is something I need to do. I have been selfless for the last three years, I carried him while you chased the future, and the dreams of the Assassin's Creed. Maj wants to be like his father. This means that he cannot go with me. He cannot follow his fathers footsteps if I take him to Spain with me..."

Altaïr listened to her carefully. He nodded his head, keeping his arms around Maj, who watched his mother speak. "This is what you want?" the assassin asked his son, who looked up and nodded his head quickly. "It's a dangerous life, you know that?"

"I want to be just like you! I want to beat the bad guys!"

Altaïr and Maria chuckled at his innocence, and smiled. Maria stood and headed to the side of the building, carefully climbing down as Altaïr followed, Maj once again on his back. This was going to be hard to explain to Malik. He was meaning to tell him about Maj, and that would mean telling him of the past seven years, something he was dreading. But he loved Malik. He had to be honest with him. What he didn't know, was while he was saying goodbye to Maria, Malik was watching them, unaware of what was really going on.

After they said their goodbyes, Altaïr climbed back up the wall, going to search for an apple for Maj to have. He hopped down, into the bureau, and set down his son on a cushion, blinking as he saw Malik drawing, looking annoyed. "I need to talk to you," the Dai sneered as the assassin passed him to the store room.

"I intend to. Just give me a moment," he requested, walking into the room, finding the small stack of apples he was looking for, then taking one and walking back over to his son and handing it to him.

Malik walked over to his room, Altaïr following as he told Maj to stay put, and slowly closed the door, keeping it open a small crack to listen for his son. "Just who exactly is that? Please tell me that that's your nephew and that woman you were with was your long lost sister!"

Altaïr grimaced, "Ah, well... No..." Malik looked enraged, turning his back to the assassin, trying hard not to attempt to strangle him with one hand. "But listen to me, I need you to hear me out! I love you, Malik. I wasn't lying yesterday. I thought, five years ago that I was in love with another... a woman, named Maria... She use to be a Templar-"

"Oh that's great," Malik half sneered, looking back at Altaïr with hateful eyes.

The taller man sighed softly and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "If you aren't going to hear me out-"

"Just continue," the Dai demanded, keeping his glaring eyes focused on the assassin.

"She use to be a Templar, but betrayed them and sought me out, followed me until I unwillingly put my trust in her, and allowed her to help me assassinate a man named Robert de Sable... you remember him?" Malik nodded grimly, looking down as he recalled the man sentencing his brother Kadar to death. "We killed him, and she continued to follow me, assist me in killing many more terrible men in both Acre and Damascus. I misread my trust in her as love, and she bore me two children. Maj and Victor. Victor died a year after Maj was born from an infection that he received. After Victor died, I found myself sick of myself. I couldn't figure out why. I admitted openly, that I did not think I loved Maria, and she openly admitted that she was recently feeling the same. We agreed to part our ways, me returning to the brotherhood, and her to raise Maj in Acre.

"It was after I returned, that I realized the mistake I had made, that the feeling of love that I was feeling was only the feeling of trust that I felt with her, the feeling of friendship. I followed Al Mualim, and did as I was told, only stopping to see her and Maj every few months. I was going to tell you about him, and about Maria, I wasn't expecting her to come and tell me that she was leaving for Spain, that Maj wanted to be with me, and become an assassin. All I can really ask of you, is please, if you are mad at me, take it out on me. Just don't let my son see it."

During this explanation, Malik's expression was softened. He stared at him with hard eyes, but Altaïr couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking. The Dai looked to the ground, not saying a word as he passed him and walked out of the room. Altaïr followed him, and watched as he sat next to Maj, who was still munching happily on the red fruit.

"You admire your father?" he asked him, softly. Maj looked up, and shook his head up and down vigorously, the juice from the apple running down his chin in a wet mess. Malik reached out with his sleeve and carefully wiped up the juice before looking over to Altaïr.

"We'll have to trek for Masyaf soon," Malik stated, looking to Altaïr who nodded his head. The Dai stood, walking to the exit of the bureau, and climbing out. The assassin climbed up after him, wrapping his arms around his waist, despite his groans of protest.

"I apologize for not telling you sooner," he said softly, resting his chin against the other's shoulder pouting his lip out doing his best impression of a puppy dog.

The Dai glared at him, and rolled his eyes looking up at the sky, "It's in the past, we can only move forward from here," he whispered. The taller man smiled, and nuzzled his face in his shoulder humming a soft 'mhm'.

"Well, come on then, we need to pack our things and head out," he stated, trying to turn, but unable to due to Altaïr's arms holding him in place. "Altaïr..."

"Just let me hold you for a little while longer," he whispered in return, his voice sounding pained. Malik wanted to question it, but stayed silent as he looked at the top of the assassin's head concerned. He slowly lowered his head, looking down to the ground, hoping and wondering if their future was going to be better than the past.

* * *

><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

Tom Riddle III: Lol! Glad you were satisfied xD. But we shall see~ Not revealing anything :P

xxxAREESHAxxx: I'm actually not use to writing that sort of thing, so I am very pleased to hear that you enjoyed it :3 as for your challenge, I hope you enjoy it :D

Stylet-Rouge: Yeaa, it was the only thing I could really think would work after a few hours of debating over what to do, and I'm glad it turned out like it did xD. I accept your challenge, you shall see your request in the next chapter~

191026: I really love the drawing you did. It isn't rubbish at all, much, MUCH better than my first attempt at drawing Malik. * nudges terrible drawing under my bed to hide it * As for the last chapter, I am glad to hear you enjoyed it :D

ChaosGarden: You flatter me to much! Thank you so much for your kind review. I am really glad to hear that you are enjoying the story so much, and I hope you continue to do so :)

Song Of The Midnight Wolf: I'm really happy that you like it :D~

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><p><strong>Note:<strong>  
>Wow, I'm so overwhelmed with how much you guys liked the last chapter, and the whole story so far as a whole. I really didn't expect it to kick off with so many people adding it to their favorites and alerts, but I can honestly say I'm thrilled about it. I'm really enjoying all the things you all have to say, and I thank you all for making my day a little brighter with each review I read. Thank you, you guys!<p>

Also, I apologize for taking longer than normal, and still not uploading the FedericoxDoctor one shot. I've gotten very busy lately and have been trying my best to get in some writing, but have found it hard to do so D:

* * *

><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:  
>Remember! If you want to see a pairing for a Short 'N Fluffy mini story just list the two characters, and what the setting will be (or an idea of what you want to see) and I'll work from there. Simply leave me a comment on DA, my email, or in a review!<p>

* * *

><p>Featuring: Ezio and Kadar<p>

* * *

><p>Requested by: xxxAREESHAxxx<p>

* * *

><p>Note: This was extremely hard to do. I don't know why. So If it didn't come out that great, I really apologize x_x;<p>

* * *

><p>Ezio was always fond of the taste of sweets, so while he was visiting the city of Jerusalem before his trek to Masyaf. He found a stall filled with all the sweet things he had been craving, buying up as many as he could afford. The master assassin knew that he shouldn't be eating such things, but the fact that he was able to right now comforted him.<p>

Exiting the town with his sweets in hand, he headed to the town of Masyaf. It was a long trek, yet, but it might be what he needed. He wasn't going to some place where he knew he had friends to back him up. He was headed to a town his ancestor once lived in, a town that he knew nothing about other than the things that he had seen in his visions of Altaïr.

Ezio patted the side of his horse, nibbling on one of his sweets from underneath his hood. His eyes flashed to the right as he saw a ghost like vision of his ancestor and a smaller man running behind him, calling out for him to wait for him. He halted his horse, staring at the smaller man as he disappeared along with Altaïr. He shook his head, the image of the man's face embedded in his mind.

The sky was darkening, and he was beginning to regret his choice of trekking out of Jerusalem at so late during the day. He halted his horse, dismounting it, then lead it into the trees off to the side, where he would camp out. He made a fire, before sitting against a rock, munching on the rest of his sweets, ignoring the images of figures running all around him.

The boy stopped and sat next to him, making Ezio jump, and look to him confused. It was obvious he wasn't real, least not anymore, but the fact that it was next to him scared him slightly. The figure removed his assassin hood, leaning back against the rock as well, making it seem really real. He reached out to touch it, but his hand went through it. He didn't know if he was expecting anything out of it, but he was half hoping he'd be able to touch him.

"I've always liked candies," the figure spoke, looking off to the side at Altaïr's figure.

"You're still young, Kadar. You might change your mind later on," he said softly in return.

"Never! I love them, so sweet," he shivered, giggling to himself as he hugged his arms around himself.

Ezio tilted his head to the side, placing a sweet in front of Kadar as if he could actually pick it up, then continued to eat his own, watching the figure. "So your name is Kadar. You are obviously a friend of my ancestors..." he stated out loud. "Wonder what happened to you and your ancestors," he wondered, looking up at the sky, listening to the sounds of the images conversing until he fell asleep.

Upon waking up, he discovered the the images were gone, making him almost sad. As bad at it was, he was enjoying the company of the figures. Perhaps he was just going insane, but it really didn't matter to him. He was getting older anyway, he'd probably blame it on that in the long run.

As he mounted his horse, and looked to the side, he could have sworn he saw the figure of the boy, hiding behind a tree. It wasn't faded, like a whole person. He rubbed his eyes, before setting off to Masyaf. His sudden interest in this Kadar, was really getting to him...


	11. Chapter 11

Efflorescent Feelings  
>Chapter 11<p>

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><p>Altaïr had been acting stranger than normal, more serious and only opened up when he was addressed to. Malik observed this behavioral change as they headed to Masyaf on the back of two horses, Altaïr's son Maj in front of him, and on rare occasions in front of Malik. The two had begun to bond, to the point where the boy seemed to trust the Dai.<p>

"Malik, can I have another apple?" he asked from on the back of Altaïr's horse.

Malik could only chuckle and shake his head, "We don't want to spoil your appetite, dinner is not too far off," he stated, looking up at the site of the setting sun. "We should probably make camp."

Altaïr gave a curt nod, veering off to the side, his face hidden from Malik, his hood blocking his view. This bothered the smaller man. He couldn't see if Altaïr was simply just lost in thought, or something was bothering him. The fact that the assassin was hiding something from him worried him. He faked a yawn, earning a small glance from the other as he looked away.

"I'm going to go to sleep," the Dai stated, dismounting his horse and pulling a blanket that was bundled up on his horse.

"Malik..." Malik lifted his head and looked to Altaïr, who pulled down his hood looking puzzled. "What happened to Al Mualim's body?" he asked, slowly getting off his horse, and carefully easing down Maj from the saddle.

Malik blinked at the sudden realization that he hadn't gotten rid of the body. He left it in the storeroom, figuring that the men who served Malik in Jerusalem would take care of it. "Why?"

"When I retrieved the Apple from the sack, he was no longer in the corner. His blood was cleaned up, and the stain in the hall was gone."

The Dai was silent for a moment, "My men must have taken care of it," he stated, not sounding to convinced of his own statement. Altaïr raised a brow, and looked to the ground watching as Maj collected sticks. "Is this what has been bothering you?" Altaïr lowered his head, staying silent as he reached up breaking sticks off of a tree. " Altaïr?"

"I'll talk about it later," he said softly, looking at Malik, then looking to Maj who reached up holding out the armful of sticks he had collected. "Thank you," he said, earning a wide smile from the boy, who skipped over to a tree and plopped down, awaiting the fire that his father was going to make.

As the fire was made and lit, the assassin pulled out a sack of bread and berries, gesturing with his finger for Maj to come over, placing the bread and fruit in his outstretched hands. The boy tucked into the food immediately, finishing it in record time, making the assassin laugh and shake his head, the first time Malik had seen Altaïr smile since they left. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to savor a meal?" he asked, earning a strong shake of the head from his son.

Malik wasn't sure how or when he would bring up Altaïr's silence from the trek to this point. Would he wait until Maj was completely asleep? Probably. If it was something he wanted to save for later, it was probably something that he wanted to hide from his son. As the Dai watched the assassin playfully tackle the boy, he couldn't help but think that if it wasn't for this moment he would have never been able to see Altaïr as a father. Not because of the playfulness, not by a long shot, but he honestly didn't think the man had the attention span for one.

Altaïr looked up, catching Malik staring at him and blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his head foolishly. "Time for bed Maj," he stated, scooping his now pouting son as a soft "awe" could be heard.

"But I'm not tired, Baba," he whined, looking over to Malik with wide puppy-dog eyes. "Can I have five more minutes?" he asked.

Altaïr scoffed, "He has no say in this," he said, sticking his tongue out slightly.

"But he's my new mother, right?"

Altaïr froze, blinking down at his son, not even glancing over at a paler Malik, who was reaching out for some of the berries, prior. "N-no, son," the assassin stuttered, laying him down and covering him up with a blanket, "Sleep, Maj," he said, ruffling his son's hair as he yawned.

Both Altaïr and Malik were silent, till they were sure Maj was asleep. The assassin stood up, walking over to the smaller man, taking his hand and pulling him to stand up, "Come with me," he said, pulling him with him a few feet into the woods. When they were far enough to see the dim light of the fire, they stopped, Altaïr pulling Malik into a tight hug. Nothing was said, Malik couldn't manage to speak, unable to form words as he felt the taller man shake lightly.

"A-Altaïr?" Malik asked, timidly, reaching up and placing his hand on the assassin's shoulder.

"I've never been so scared in my life.." Malik raised a brow, but stayed silent as he listened to his quivering voice. "Tell me to kill someone, I will do it. Tell me to take back a treasure that was stolen from you, I will do it..." Malik pulled back as he felt wetness on his neck, pulling his face away to look upon his lover's face. Tears spilled from his eyes, his face was contorted in a pained expression as he tried hard not to let his tears fall.

"Altaïr..." Malik whispered, using his fingers to wipe away the taller man's tears. "There's no reason to be afraid-"

"I've never had to protect anyone before," he snapped, cutting Malik off taking him aback. "Now I have to protect my son... my lover..."

The Dai was at a loss for words. What was he to say? He stayed silent, reaching up and caressing his face. "You don't need to worry about me. And as for Maj, I'll be behind you in anything. He will have both of us watching over him. He will never be in any danger."

Altaïr's eyes seemed to light up at the sound of Malik's words. He slowly lowered his head to rest on the other's shoulder. As Malik held the man close to him, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. If he had forgiven him sooner he would have had more time with Altaïr. '_But then again.. Maybe it was the guilt that both of us felt that made us more interested in each other... Maybe that guilt was what brought us to love each other_' he thought, pulling back and looking up at him. "We should get some rest. Morning comes soon, and Masyaf isn't far off. We do not know what awaits us."

Altaïr nodded his head, but didn't loose his grip on Malik's sides as he picked him up, putting him over his shoulder, earning a muffled protest from the Dai, who silently squirmed, lightly hitting the taller man's back hissing a soft "Let me down _now_." Altaïr didn't let him go till they were back in the sight of their makeshift camp, where he set him down and plopped down next to him. "Don't do that again," Malik warned, narrowing his eyes as he sat down.

Altaïr grinned, and scooted down to lay down, staring up at the sky, "Alright, alright."

The two fell asleep quickly, and when daybreak came, Maj was jumping on top of them, calling for them to wake up. Malik was the first to rise, ignoring Altaïr's groans of protest as his son started to run around the fire in a hyper frenzy.

"I see you slept well," the Dai murmured to the boy, who skidded to a halt and hopped up and down his arms upward as he made soft begging sounds to be picked up. He leaned over, allowing the boy to latch onto his neck as he used his arm to hoist him up to perch on his side. "We'll let your father sleep for a few more minutes, hm?"

Malik stepped forward, heading to the sack of food off to the side, and plopped down in front of it, allowing the boy to scoot into his lap as he opened it, handing him an apple. The man found it amusing at how much the child loved apples. It seemed like he never grew tired of them, and would beg for one at any chance he could get.

"You're spoiling him with apples, Mal," Altaïr grumbled as he rose to his feet, stretching upward. Malik just gave him a smug look, before turning back to Maj, who had almost already finished the apple.

Altaïr walked over to the horses, pulling out the Apple from a sack, rolling it in his hands as he stared at it. He glanced up at his lover and his son, wondering what exactly was going to happen to the three of them. Were they going to keep moving forward, teaching new assassins the way of the creed, and continue to try and rid the world of men that threatened the people and the future? Or was there some tragedy looming ahead that sought out to break everything they wanted and rid them of their wants and dreams?

"Altaïr?" The assassin jumped slightly, looking at Malik, who had just packed up their things and was boosting Maj up on his horse. "Are you ready?" The man gave a curt nod, shoving the apple back into his bag before swiftly hopping up on top of his horse. He ignored Malik's worried glance as he got up onto his own horse, and snapped the reigns making the horse begin to trot back onto the road.

Two hours into their ride, the assassin tower of Masyaf could be seen from a distance. Normally, the site of the tower brought hope of shelter and a place to be safe. But this time, it was a mutual feeling between both the assassin and the Dai of fear. What was ahead for them? They could only find out by keeping their strides and moving forward.

Upon reaching the town, they came to a halt. The gates were closed. Both stared up, in confusion. They were never closed unless a threat was nearby. Was there an army behind them and they were not aware?Malik looked to Altaïr, who shared the same worried look in his eye, as he veered to the side, trotting behind the town, heading to the cliffs. He dismounted his horse walking to the edge of a cliff and looked down as he listened to Maj and Malik dismount their horse.

"I'll go on ahead, you keep an eye on Maj," Altaïr stated, turning and climbing down before the other could protest. Malik looked down at Maj, then watched as he climbed down, letting himself drop after a few minutes, standing up, and sprinting across a rope. He made his way up a ladder then pushed himself backwards as he grasped a wall and climbed up it with ease.

Malik's eyes never left the assassin's back as he climbed. He couldn't help but feel scared at the sight of him being so far away. He didn't feel safe here, not anymore. Something was wrong, but he couldn't leave the boy behind and go after Altaïr. He let out a soft sigh, sitting down, allowing the boy sit in his lap and curl up. He was jealous of Maj and how calm he could be. "Are you okay?" he asked the boy, earning a curious glance upward.

"Baba is the best assassin in the world, I never worry about him," he stated, nuzzling his forehead against Malik's shirt. The Dai simply smiled lightly, and held the small boy close to him, watching as Altaïr ducked out of sight.

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><p>Altaïr stayed against a wall, the sound of voices could be heard from the halls as he slipped in through a window. The stench surrounding him smelt of decay, and blood, making him fear for his fellow assassins and the novices who lived inside. He slowly moved down the hall, his heart racing as he padded towards the voices. They sounded familiar, but he couldn't place where or if he even knew the people. He stopped at a door, it was cracked open slightly, just enough for him to peek through if he wanted. He bit his lip, peering inside looking around the room.<p>

What he saw shocked him. He couldn't believe his eyes. Standing tall and mighty, standing in front of a desk was the man he had supposedly killed... Robert de Sable. He nearly stumbled backwards, but caught his balance, his eyes narrowing as he saw a figure of a woman standing at his side, batting her eye lashes as Robert talked with someone at the desk.

"Maria..." Robert whispered, caressing the woman's cheek, making Altaïr grit his teeth in anger at the woman he once trusted. "Are you sure Altaïr won't get in the way?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course. He's to busy raising our child now. If he does get in the way we could always use Maj as collateral," she stated, crossing her arms, looking up at him like a snake.

The assassin couldn't hear anymore. He couldn't bare to. How was Robert alive? How could Maria so easily offer her son to any harm like that? He backed away, shaking his head lightly, grunting as his back hit against something hard and muscular. Turning around, his grimaced as three Templar guards stared down at him with glaring eyes. Two of them grabbed his arms, the third pointed a spear at his throat as they barged through the door, throwing him to the ground.

"Caught this man sneaking about, eavesdropping," one sneered, glaring down at him.

"Altaïr, Altaïr, Altaïr... What are we going to do with you?" The assassin once again gritted his teeth, his suspicions once again confirmed.

"I knew you couldn't possibly be dead... _Master_..." Altaïr spit to the ground of Al Mualim's feet, who's eyes gleamed menacingly down at the man below him.

"You were always a cleaver one, my best pupil," he noted, circling him. "But unfortunately for you, you won't be living much longer..."

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

191026: YES. I have watched Revelations's trailer way to many times (to the point where if I'm talking to friends on skype they tell me to shut up xD) I'm beyond excited for it. And I'm glad you liked the concept of the short and fluffy scene. I had about 4 different plots running through my head at once, and that was the one that finally made it to xD

ChaosGarden: Your review really made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I'm really glad you liked the chapter, and I'm glad you are enjoying the story~

BADAZZtoldya: I'm really glad :D I aim to please :3

Song of the Midnight Wolf: I was thinking about doing that, but I'm not to sure about it. They are short, really really short, and I don't really plan to make them any longer than they are. But we'll see, maybe I will ^^;

xxxAREESHAxxx: o_o; I was aware it was both a girls and a boys name. My friend's little brother and her father are both named Maj xD

PhantomWise19: I'm really happy to hear that! I am always looking for something to satisfy my own inner fan girl, and to hear that I have satisfied yours really makes me happy :D

Jcgurl201: We shall see~ :3

Shikaxshake: Glad you liked it ^^

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><p><strong>Note:<strong>  
>You all had to have seen that coming D: If not... Then... I apologize xD. Also, I apologize again for the slow update. My college has been a pain in my side, leaving me stressed out, and busy beyond all belief. But I won't bore you with the details x_x Just know that I will not forget you guys, and promise to update as soon as I can.<p>

ALSO Need more requests for the short n fluffy one shots. (cough) Make me do one with La Volpe ;D Or...something... inspire me~

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><p><strong>Short 'N Fluffy<strong>:  
>Remember! If you want to see a pairing for a Short 'N Fluffy mini story just list the two characters, and what the setting will be (or an idea of what you want to see) and I'll work from there. Simply leave me a comment on DA, my email, or in a review!<p>

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><p>Featuring: Shaun and Altaïr<p>

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><p>Requested by: Stylet-Rouge<p>

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><p>Shaun shot out of bed for the fifth time that night, rubbing his eyes vigorously. His sleeping pattern had been horrid for the past few weeks, his mind plagued with the thoughts of someone he could never meet. He stared down at his hands, which were shaking violently, as he struggled not to cry. It was torture. Pure torture, to have to see scenes in his head of something that would, and could never happen.<p>

Flopping backwards, he let out a exasperated sigh of annoyance as he fought to fall back asleep. Sleep was always quick to come for the Brit, but staying asleep was the problem. The dreams he would be plagued with gave him pleasure, something that he never wanted to feel for something so imaginary.

As expected, the man fell asleep almost instantly, his mind clouding over with flashing images of Altaïr running, skidding to a halt, killing, smiling, standing on a cliff, and sneaking through a crowd of scholars so skillfully raced in front of his eyes. He wasn't sure where this obsession with this man came out of. All he did was watch over files that Desmond had previously been through, and studied the movements of the assassin.

It would be considered a bit stalker-like if the man was still alive, but he constantly reminded himself that it was strictly for his job. If he studied how the man was, it was possible that they could find some things out that they never knew before. Of course, that is what he was telling everyone, not fooling anyone but himself with his lie.

It was hard for him, especially at night where he would be plagued of dreams of the assassin interacting with him. Tonight was especially brutal. The man would flirt with him, pin him against a wall and capture his lips with his own, making sure Shaun knew that he was his for the time being. When he forced himself awake, he felt his pants were a bit damper than when he fell asleep.

He groaned, forcing himself out of bed and over to his sack of clothes, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and slipping them on, before going back to his makeshift bed and covering up. He found himself searching for everything that was disgusting, thinking of his grandmother's mustache, his childhood teacher who would slobber on her fingers before she passed out the classes graded papers. He shuddered, confident that his dreams would not result in another wet pair of pants before falling asleep once again.

Altaïr's strong arms wrapped around him in a tight and loving embrace. He rested his head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. "You aren't real," Shaun whispered, shivering as he felt the assassin's breath on hiss neck.

"I'm not?" Shaun shivered, closing his eyes as he felt Altaïr's lips touch his skin.

"N-no."

Shaun shot up from his sleep, scowling as he stood. "Stupid dreams..." he murmured, walking out of the room, ignoring Rebecca's curious gaze from her computer she normally sat at at this time of the night. "Stupid assassin..."

He walked outside, and stared out at the town below. He looked to the side, jumping slightly as a figure walked towards him. When it was finally able to be seen, he was disappointed to find out that the man was only Desmond, not his beloved Altaïr. "What's the matter with you?" Desmond asked, raising a brow.

Shaun only scowled and crossed his arms, "You aren't Altaïr..."

Desmond blinked, and tilted his head to the side, his face contorting into confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Just bugger off."

Desmond scowled back at the man, turning muttering a soft "Asshole" under his breath as he left.

Shaun growled as he sat on the edge of the railing, looking up at the sky. "Altaïr, if you're up there. I know it's weird. But I think I love you. Bizarre, right?"

Shaun held onto his head, letting a soft scream of annoyance out as he kicked the rail with the back of his heel. "Bloody hell... I've gone insane..."

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><p>Review if you liked it, or even if you didn't every little feedback helps :D<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 12

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><p>How was this possible? Altaïr didn't understand how Al Mualim was alive. Of course, he knew the man wouldn't be so easily cast aside, the man was to stubborn and ruthless for that. The assassin paced up and down the small bunker that was made into a make-shift holding cell as he rubbed his eyes scowling. He had only been captive for at least two or three hours, and he knew he needed to get out now instead of wallowing around in wondering about his former master. Al Mualim wasn't going to let him live for very long, he knew that very well.<p>

He stopped at the window and glanced outside. If not for the metal bars now covering the window, he could have escaped that way, but of course his captors were not that stupid. As he searched his cell, he knew as all his ideas were shut down that it was either up to Malik to know there was something wrong, or he needed to find a way to escape as soon as the door was going to open... But what if they weren't going to let him out? He frowned and looked down at his calloused hands and shook his head lightly. They could always do the smart thing and starve him to death, that way there would be no way he could escape and it would leave him to torture himself with his thoughts, which he already seemed to be doing.

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><p>Malik sat on a rock, holding Maj in his lap. Something was wrong. It was obvious. Altaïr had been gone for far to long, and here he was, sitting down with no idea of what happened or where he was. If it wasn't for the child in his lap, he would have charged in already, but he couldn't just leave the boy here, there was to much risk in that. He could run off, get caught by someone wandering about, or possibly fall off a cliff in attempt to maybe catch a bug. Whatever the case, he couldn't leave him behind, or take him inside.<p>

His head shot to the side at the sound of hooves coming closer. Quickly, Malik scooped up Maj and rushed behind a rock hiding the boy as best as he could, pulling out a sword in ready to defend them. As a figure appeared, he breathed a sigh of relief, standing upright, putting his sword away and watched as Maj ran forward.

"Mommy!"

Maria's head shot to the side, a smile showing on her lips as she saw Maj. She climbed off her horse and picked up her son, hugging him tightly. "Where's your father?" she asked, looking over to Malik, who walked over silently. "Malik... Where is Altaïr?" The Dai didn't say anything, only looked over to the town of Masyaf, then lowered his head. Maria could barely contain the smile on her face as she forced a frown and looked down at Maj brushing the hair from his face. "How long has he been gone?"

Again, Malik didn't say a word. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? He didn't care how long he'd been gone, he just wanted him back now. He heard the woman sigh, and looked up at her shaking her head, "If you want to go after him, go now before I change my mind. I will watch Maj."

That was what Malik was waiting for. He gave one last glance to the small boy, who looked up to him more like a lost cat than the boy that he was, and looked to Maria, nodding his head and walking to the edge of the cliff. How was he going to do this? One armed, not a clue as to where in the city he was, and only armed with a sword and a few throwing knives. It was a challenge, and although Malik would never admit it out loud, the challenge that he was left with during life without his other arm was his meaning to live. He had to prove he was better than any two armed person. Least that was how he pictured it all.

Diving forward, he leaped off the cliff, praying that the hay below was not moved. If it was, he was in for it. Landing with a thud in the soft plant, he let out a breath he was holding and climbed out with ease. Just as he was about to think of how easy that was, he heard the clanking of a guard, jetting back into the hay to hide himself as it approached where he was hiding. He held his breath as the guard eased over. He stood in front of the hay, looking around. Malik observed the area before reaching out and pulling the man into the hay, slicing his throat. He pulled him to the bottom of the stack so that the blood would pool to the bottom and hopefully not drain out to quickly, and hopped out skirting to the right as he jetting into an open door that he remembered walking through so often when he was younger.

He padded up the stairs, where was he going to look first? He decided the bunkers, maybe he could rid off any sleeping Templars in an attempt to lessen the burden of fighting out once he found his ruthless assassin, _if _he found him. He paused at a corner, listening to the clanking of a guard drawing near, his hand clutching a throwing knife as he mouthed a silent prayer that the man wouldn't turn his way when he reached the divide of the hallway. Luck was in his favor as the man didn't even glance to him as he turned down the corner without a care.

"Forgive me," Malik whispered, reaching around and slicing the man's throat swiftly with the throwing knife and racing down the hall that the now dead guard had come from. It wasn't long before he heard the halls overheard stampeding with feet. His heart began to race as he listened close for any indication that anyone was coming his way, his hand clutching his sword as if the metal weapon would save his life. Sweat beaded his forehead as he came up to a door. What was on the other side? Men going to head him off? Altaïr? He only hoped it was the latter, but knew that was entirely not probable. He eased the door open slightly, listening as guards were passing.

"Stupid boy," one of the guards muttered, his voice starting to drift away as he headed down the hall. "Thought we wouldn't notice?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Malik froze. The voice... Was that Altaïr? He eased around the door, staring at the figure being dragged down the hall by two guards. It was him! His emotions took over, ignoring all around him, racing forward, yelling as he unsheathed his sword driving it into the back of one of the guards. The other guard quickly dropped the assassin, pulling out his own sword, clashing it with Malik's as he growled in annoyance.

"Foolish...Reckless assassin," the guard growled, a smirk on his lips as Malik drew his sword back and swung it again, missing by mere millimeters. "Don't you realize this is a trap?"

Malik's eyes narrowed, "No one calls Altaïr stupid but me," he simply stated, ignoring the sound of coming footsteps as he fought against the man, determined to make him die. If it was the last thing he'd do, he would kill this man. He watched as the man tripped backwards over Altaïr's held out leg. He lunged forward, slicing at the man, making his actions quick to end his life.

"Where is Maj?" Altaïr gasped, looking up to Malik who simply shook his head, grabbing the man's bound hands and pulling him to his feet.

"He's with Maria, now lets go before we are caught!" the Dai yelled, pulling him down the hall. Before anything was said, Malik halted, his eyes narrowing as he gazed upon Al Mualim. The man had his hood down, the Apple in hand as he smirked maliciously at the pair.

"First I have you, then I have him..." his grin widened as Altaïr grasped Malik's arm to stop him from charging at their former master in rage. "And now I have you both. You will not get away this time. I will execute you on the spot. What will you do, little Dai? Sneer at me to death? You make one wrong move and my guards will shoot you down."

Malik looked behind him to see a row of archers pointing their arrows at them, all with a dull look on their face. He felt Altaïr move slightly, looking down to see him using Malik's sword to cut the ropes binding his wrists. "Go for him. Get the Apple," he whispered in his ear, letting him go.

The Dai's eyes widened as he looked to Altaïr confused, "But-"

"Do it."

Altaïr stood upright, looking to Al Mualim straight-faced and calm. Malik didn't know if he should obey his lover's wishes, or he should not do anything and accept their fate. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out facing Al Mualim. He pointed his sword forward, his eyes narrowing as his former master laughed, the Apple glowing as many more Al Mualim's appeared around him. He kept his eyes on the one he knew was the real one and charged forward, the sound of the assassin's footsteps were behind him as they rushed onward.

Twangs of arrows being released was heard, but no feeling of pain was felt by the Dai as he sliced through the copies and clashed swords with the traitor. "You risk the man you love just to get me?" Al Mualim sneered, spit flying from his mouth as he attempted to overpower the smaller man.

Ignoring his jeer, Malik pushed him back, taking the moment he stumbled as a chance to slice the man's hand clean off, dropping the Apple with it. He rushed forward, driving his blade into the man's chest, lurching forward as he glared down into the man's eyes. Al Mualim, however, did not stop smiling. He looked behind Malik, and laughed coldly, before his head fell back. Malik checked his heartbeat on his neck before collapsing back, panting as he just then realize how tired he was. He looked to the side, his eyes pausing at Altaïr.

His assassin was laying on the ground, along with many guards who were piled on each other like dead, doll like figures. Many arrows pierced his back, swaying slightly to the heaving of him trying to breath. The Dai crawled forward, ignoring the Apple laying a few feet away, tears filling his eyes as he stared down at him. " Altaïr?" he whispered, reluctant to reach out and touch him, in fear he might break. He gulped slightly, and shook his head. "You...You can't die... What about Maj? What about the future? What..." he paused taking his hand, "What about me?"

Altaïr turned his head slightly, looking up at him, squeezing his hand, "You can lead them... Malik... It was a risk I had to take... for you..." he closed his eyes.

Malik shook his head and reached around him, carefully pulling him up to lean on him. "We are leaving this place. You are not dying here. We'll get you taken care of. You've come out of worse situations before..." he limped forward, Altaïr behind him, being dragged on his back as he stumbled down the hallway. "Though... you could have skipped a few helpings of seconds in your meals..." he grumbled, mostly as a joke as he leaned over, careful not to fall forward, scoop up the apple and shoved it in his pocket.

"Robert...De Sables... He's alive... Maria is helping him..." Malik paused and looked to Altaïr shocked.

"Maria?" the Dai frowned as he looked down at the ground, "I left Maj... with her," he bit his lip. He started forward again, making it his priority to get Altaïr out of here and get him patched up and resting. It was possible that the assassin was just out of it. Confused by loss of blood and pain. He nodded to himself, it was indeed possible.

As they lurched down the hallway, many guards were much like the archers before, laying on the ground sprawled out. He didn't really know what to make of it, but kept moving forward as he made his way to the edge of the building. He kicked open the door and stumbled down the hill, almost losing his balance a few times as he made his way into the town. There had to be someone that could help them. His eyes glanced to the side as he heard a soft "psst". He smiled as he saw Joseph, one of the assassins he trained with as a novice. He walked to him, passing his lover to him as they walked behind a house entering it from the back door.

"Are you alright, brother? Any injuries you need attended to?" he asked, laying Altaïr on his stomach on a bed. Malik simply shook his head, walking to the assassin's side, looking down at the man he loved, scared for his life. "I should be able to take care of this... If you need to rest, please do so. You will be alright here," he stated, pointing to another bed off to the side.

Normally, he'd have said no, but his knees buckled in protest of him standing any longer. He staggered to the bed, flopping on his side, holding his stump of an arm as he stared up at the ceiling. He listened to the sounds of the assassin tearing off Altaïr's robes, and went red with a slight tinge of jealousy. He couldn't protest though, listening to the sounds of him moping up the blood with a bowl of water, and a cloth. After that, his mind was gone off into the dreamless sleep that his body was craving. He just hoped, as his last thought before he was really lost to the land of sleep, that Altaïr would be alright.

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><p>Note:<br>I'm really sorry for the long, long wait. School bombarded me with mass amounts of projects and papers exhausting me to the point of just collapsing when I got home instead of having time on the computer. I haven't forgotten the fic, even though it seemed that way for a while, and I will be continuing with it as time progresses, just slowly because of school D:  
>I hope you guys understand and aren't mad with me v_v<p>

Also, I'm going to put the Short N' Fluffy scenes on hold, or stop them for this fic in general. I enjoyed their challenge, and I might continue them outside, but not until I have time, of course.

I hope you liked this chapter, please review~ Every little review helps me improve, and helps me~


	13. Chapter 13

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 13

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><p>Three days had passed, and nothing was heard from anyone. Not Maria, not Maj, not even Robert de Sables. Malik was scared for Maj and his safety, and made a point to search the city for any signs of the boy while hooded and concealed as he stalked around the city. But even with the son of his love missing, it didn't surpass his worry over the assassin. The only sign of him being alive was his breathing and when he swallowed water that Joseph had to coax down his throat. There was nothing wrong with Altaïr other than the fact that he had, had seven arrows en lodged in his back, but the loss of blood that occurred from when the wounds had been inflicted to when the last arrow had been wrenched from it's burrowing spot and stitched up was a blow for anyone to deal with. It was a miracle to Malik's mind how the man he loved could possibly still be alive.<p>

But the thing that kept his mind ablaze with questions was why he allowed the situation to occur. He stated it was for him, but even before that he instructed him to go forward and take the Apple. It seemed like a useless metal ball to him only for the fact that he hadn't figured out how to use or control it. They were selfish questions to be pondering, but the fact that he wanted to know if it was really for him, or just to get the thing away from Al Mualim kept prodding as if it was a plague there to taunt him. But even with that question on his mind, others continued to surface as he played over the tower's surroundings and guards actions in his mind over and over again. The soldiers seemed more like puppets or a oversized child's plaything as they laid sprawled out on the floor. It bothered the Rafiq to dwell on how and why these men seemed so lifeless.

He stood on the roof of Joseph's brother's house, staring up at the darkening sky as sunset was hitting the land. He held the Apple clutched in his hand, so tempted to ride out in the dead of night and find the nearest body of water, paddle a boat out as far as he dared and drop the retched thing. But he knew that Altaïr had risked his life for both him and the item, and didn't dare rid of it. He carefully padded across the roof, attempting to not make a sound in case he disturbed anyone below, and climbed down the ladder after shoving the Apple back in his pocket. As soon as his feet touched down he heard a soft groan. His ears twitched at the sound as he found himself sprinting to the next room and looking as his lover was slowly sitting up and plopping backwards on his behind, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

When Altaïr's amber eyes hit Malik's dark charcoal eyes, he couldn't help as tears weld up his emotions getting the better of him as he struggled to keep a straight face. "Safety and peace, Malik," the assassin said softly, allowing to bring himself to stand at a stagger.

"Safety... and peace," Malik returned as he walked across the room to help the taller man stand. "How do you feel?"

Altaïr didn't answer at first, no doubt in the Dai's mind that he was debating on lying or telling the truth, but looked down putting his hand to his stomach, "I'm hungry," he stated, right before his stomach let out a growl as if trying to prove his point.

Malik smiled lightly, and got the other to sit back down before going into the food storeroom and come back with a bowl of stew. He handed it to him, and watched as he carefully stirred the contents with the spoon as if savoring his time with the meal. Malik's eyes never left Altaïr as he ate, he was quick to take the bowl, exit to the storeroom and retrieve more of the stew assuming that the man was not going to be easily satisfied with one bowl full after not eating for more than three days. When he thought about it, as Altaïr was halfway through his now third bowl, the last thing he had eaten was an apple before they reached Masyaf. '_No. It was even before that_,' he thought, his eyes glazed over as he recalled the last time he had seen any sort of food in his grasp, '_He put the apple away... he never ate it_.' He kept his thoughts to himself as he stood taking the bowl once more and earning a shake of the head from the other man.

"I do not think I can eat anymore, I might get sick," he stated, leaning against the wall on his shoulder, careful not to let his back touch the surface.

Malik nodded and went into the store room, straining his ears as he listened hard for any sign other than him cleaning up the bowl. It was simply paranoia that kept him in the same position, hunched over the bowl of water, scrubbing at the eating dish with a now dirty rag, and listening carefully. True, he didn't expect Altaïr to drop dead now that he was conscious and seemingly okay for the most part, but he was also looking for any reason to rush out to his assassin and question his motives.

Once he was sure that the bowl was clean, he laid it out to dry, and headed back out sitting behind Altaïr and putting his hand on his shoulder, "I should check on your wounds," he stated, letting his hand drop and take a hold of a small knife and cut the bandages that were trickling with blood spots, and observed the wounds. "Not infected, and seems to be healing well," he stated after a few minutes, standing to retrieve more bandages and reaching around him, "Hold," he instructed letting him hold down a piece of the bandage as he started to wrap it around him. Once again, it was a chore to have to do this with one hand, but like the last time he had to do this with him, he was all to eager to help him out.

Once finished and tied, Malik lingered behind him, staying silent as he questioned himself if he should ask Altaïr what was on his mind, or not. He shook his head and stood up, stretching his arm upward as he chewed on the inside of his lower lip. "How long was I asleep?"

Malik looked back at him a solemn look on his face, "Three days," he answered, immediately.

"Is..." the Dai knew exactly what he was going to ask as he trailed off, trying to avoid asking the question, but still wanting the answer. "Is Maj alright?"

Malik did not make eye contact as he slowly shook his head twice, "I do not know. I have not been able to find him."

This answer was the one that Altaïr had been fearing. He grimaced and shook his head also and tried to stand, "At least... You are safe. I'll go back and find him-"

"No you certainly will not! You are hurt you... you stupid novice, now sit back down and rest!" Altaïr blinked and slunk back into sitting down as he stared up at his lover, confused. "You were shot with seven arrows at close range. They were deep, Altaïr. You lost a lot of blood. I have been searching for him every day, and I will find him. I do not need you to nearly die a second time! I cannot lose you too!"

In the middle of Malik's shouting, Joseph and his brother Ta'al had entered, looking at the two, wondering if they should intervene. The Rafiq huffed and panted from mostly anger as he turned on a heel and left. He yanked a cloak from a table near the door in the next room over, pulled it on, then opened the door and left slamming it without really intending to.

Altaïr stared at the entry way to the room, wishing he knew what to say, and even what he should do. He slowly looked over to Joseph, who was now the only one left in the room and was looking to the assassin almost worried. "He was really worried about you..." the other finally stated, watching as Altaïr winced at his words and looked down, "He almost never left your side. He spends all his time looking for your son, and being next to you. The least you could do now, assassin, is to rest and allow yourself time to mend."

The assassin nodded his head, letting out a soft sigh as he turned to lay on his stomach once more. He lifted an arm, laying his head against it and closed his eyes, hoping the the other man would leave him. For one, he didn't know him, and found it incredibly uncomfortable to be without his assassin robes in the presence of the man. He listened to his footsteps as he left, lifting his head from his arm as he silently prayed to no certain god in particular that Maj was safe, and Malik would not be angry with his actions. He looked around the room, and stared at his robes from the other end of the room. He smiled, noticing that they were mended, and most of the blood stains were still visible, but nearly faded. He sat up and rubbed his cheek with his four-fingered hand, his eyes shifting from the doorway, to the robes.

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><p>Malik huffed as he stomped up a hill, grumbling inaudible words making the wandering people of the streets look to him uneasily. He ignored them, keeping his eyes forward as he spied a group of novices at the gate ahead of him, looking nervously around as a higher assassin spoke to them. The man paused to look to the Dai and frowned as they made eye contact. He stepped forward, walking to his side as he kept his gaze on him. "Safety and peace Jerusalem Rafiq. What is your business?"<p>

Malik wanted to grit his teeth. _What was his business_? What was this man even questioning him for? Was he really as blind as a novice to believe that everything that was said by Al Mualim was correct? He knew he had no reason to scold this man, after all he and Altaïr had done so also till they saw the error of his doing and his actions first-hand. "I am looking for a boy. He is small, only a few years old, but carries certain features from Altaïr that you would be sure to have recognized."

The man's frown deepened as he shifted his glance around him, "Acre."

Malik rose a brow, "Acre?" he questioned.

"The boy is in Acre. The Templars were chased out late last night. A woman had a child, that resembled Mater Altaïr. I heard they planned to depart on a boat as soon as possible for Spain."

"Then Acre is where we must go."

Malik's eyes widened as he looked to the side. Altaïr stood next to him, clad in his assassin's robes and armor. The Dai glared at him, but looked back to the other assassin. "Thank you for the information, my brother. Safety and peace," he thanked, lowering his head as he turned to leave, listening to his lover as he thanked him as well. "You aren't going anywhere," he stated, after a few minutes of silence.

"Malik, he is my son-"

"And I will take care of it. Altaïr, you can't do this. You are weak, injured, you are not Allah as much as you may think that you are!"

Altaïr didn't speak, just continued to walk on past him, as if ignoring him. Malik knew better than this, and simply followed him, slumping his shoulders in defeat. He was getting no where with just yelling at him, he knew that he was going to do what he put his mind to, injured or not. After all that fuss, the Dai helped him up on his horse, earning only a nod of thanks as he got up on his own horse. They both were silent. They knew that Acre was far ahead, not simply a days worth of travel, but a bit more. They would have to hurry and make up as much ground as they could, since the Templars nearly had a full day ahead of them.

It was nearly twenty-four hours before either Altaïr or Malik made any sounds at all. The assassin was first to make a grunt, rolling his shoulder, obviously trying to relieve some of the pain in his back. The Dai snapped the reigns of his horse, making the horse rush forward and halt in front of Altaïr's. "I need to check on your wounds. I will not try to stop you any longer, but at least allow me to treat you."

The assassin was hesitant, but figured since they were already a day into a ride, that he wouldn't have him sent back now. He slid off the side of his horse, giving it a pat on the side, and slunk over to a nearby log, sitting down, and removing his clothes from his upper half.

Malik grimaced as he saw the blood seeping through the bandages. Using a small knife, he cut the bandages, and frowned seeing that some of the stitches had ripped. He shook his head and went back to his horse, retrieving a needle, thread, bandages, a cloth, and some herbs. He knelt down behind him, and began to stitch up the wounds that had been re-opened. Once he was sure that they were stitched, he took the cloth, and dabbed at the blood around the wounds, doing his best to mop the blood away without wasting the water that they had.

He ordered the other to lean forward as he placed the herbs over the wounds as best as he could, trying to balance them with the angle, and proceeded to wrap him up as best as he could. After completing, he put away the extra supplies he had and helped Altaïr back into his robes. He stared down at him, standing in front of him, watching as he stared at the dirt beneath them. Not really knowing what to do or say, Malik slid between the assassin's legs, surprising him with a wide eyed glance, and leaned down putting a hand to his cheek.

"I do not wish to be so cross with you, brother. I'm simply worried. I care about you... You know I do."

Altaïr gave a nod, letting his head drop slightly. Malik leaned forward, tilting his head back up, and pressed his forehead to his lovers, staring into his eyes. "You have always been the only one to care about me, brother..." Malik blinked at Altaïr's words. "You were always there for me, ever since you and I were both novice's training hard to become the best assassins that we could be... Before my father and mother passed away, all they cared about was that I did what I was told. But then there was you. After a hard day of training, I could always look forward to seeing you smile, watch you read... watch you draw. You were there to comfort me when I was punished for messing up a form, or forgetting a creed..."

"You still forget the creed..." Malik grumbled, earning a sheepish smile from the other man. Malik sighed and moved his head slightly to the side, letting his lips press against the lips of the man he loved. Altaïr was almost to eager to kiss him back, pressing his lips hard upon the Dai's as he wrapped his arms around him. Once parted, the two held each other for a few minutes, only to let go as Malik remembered that they were losing time. "We should... continue on if we want to reach Acre any time soon," he stated, standing upright and helping the other to stand.

"Do you think we can save him?"

Malik blinked and quickly turned his head around to look at Altaïr, surprised at the sudden unsureness in their quest. "Of course we can. We have to try as hard as we can, correct?" he asked, earning a small smile and a nod from the other.

"You're right..."

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><p><strong>Review Response<strong>:

Jcgurl201: Thank you so much for the review. It really made me smile. I'm glad you liked that scene, I can't deny I was scared I'd be hunted down and shot for hurting Alty like that Dx

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**Note**:

Reviews help me to continue on with the story, and lets me know what you enjoyed and what I need to work on, all kinds are appreciated~


	14. Chapter 14

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 14

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><p>Acre hadn't changed much since the two had last seen it. Beggars were more in abundance, but that didn't really shock them. What worried the two the most, was that the further they went into the city, the less guards appeared. When there was a lack of guards in this particular city, that only meant one thing: a boat departed. Many guards, both city and Templar tended to jump on boats at last minute leaving the city guard-less for a few hours before the guards whom were dismissed for the day went on duty.<p>

Altaïr quickened his pace, sprinting up a wall, and beginning to jump from building to building, nearly missing one as he judged the distance poorly. Malik watched him, following from below as best as he could, not trusting himself to make it up a wall as fast as the assassin. He blinked as he nearly ran into a wall, scowling as Altaïr left him on the other side, going to the docks without him. He glared at the ground, and walked around, looking for a way inside.

The assassin jumped down onto a building, carefully climbing down as he then rushed over to the nearest man he could find, "Excuse me, but do you know if any boats left for Spain earlier today?" The man smiled and nodded his head quickly.

"Yes, one left this morning. Another is following it later on today near nightfall if you were meant to get on the last," he informed him.

"Thank you," he lowered his head slightly, and stepped away, heading for the entrance gate that he saw Malik entering. "There's another boat for Spain later on today. There was one that departed earlier this morning."

"Next time, don't leave me behind," Malik growled, glaring up at the taller man in annoyance.

Altaïr held up his hands "Sorry, sorry," he apologized with a half laugh, almost earning a smack, but Malik pulled back halfway to his face as he turned, glaring at the ground as he headed back into the city. "Where are you going?"

"Finding food..." he grumbled in return, twisting around the streets in search for a marketplace. Upon finding one, he bought four pieces of fruit, filled both of their small jars of water, and a loaf of bread to split. He found a nice spot under a tree and sat down, dividing the spoils and handing Altaïr his half. "We should have enough money to have us smuggled on board as passengers," he stated, looking in his pouch then tying it closed.

He bit into his fruit, and looked to Altaïr, concerned, "How's your back feel?"

"Numb," he answered, honestly as he rolled the fruit in his hand. Malik let his hand drop as he stared at the other. He looked up and blinked, "Hm?"

Malik simply shook his head and looked up at the sky, "You do realize that we will be leaving the novices and other Assassin's under the control of the Master Assassin's that are in Masyaf, correct?" Altaïr nodded slowly, biting into the fruit almost reluctantly. "I don't like this... I want to save Maj and possibly have the head of Maria Thorpe and Robert de Sables, but-"

"I don't want Maria dead..."

Malik blinked, looking over to his lover, confused, "But Altaïr... she took Maj, she's a traitor..."

Altaïr's brows were furrowed together as he stared down at the single bite of the fruit. "Give me the money, I'll go find us a smuggler," he stated, either ignoring the Dai's last comment, or was to angry to even comment on it. Of course he knew she was a traitor, and that she took their son after stating that she was leaving him with him. He just simply wanted to know why. He swiped the money, and stalked down the street, leaving Malik with all the food, and looking at his retreating back, worried.

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><p>Shoved in a corner of a boat, was not Malik's idea of fun. It was fortunate, however, that they were on this boat. The smuggler that the assassin had bribed to smuggle them on was actually in search for some men to help him unload his cargo when they arrived in Spain, so the story was set and the two were allowed safe passage to the other country with little to no suspicion.<p>

The boat swayed slightly as they furthered out to sea, making him light headed and suddenly very aware of what was going on around him. No, Malik was never really prone to any sort of sea sickness, but the idea of leaving everything behind them for the other Master Assassin's to take care of, made him sick to his stomach. Was he very trusting of them? No, not in the slightest. After Al Mualim, he was really hesitant to really give away his trust lightly at all.

Altaïr was a different story all together. His arms were around the mast in the dead center of the boat, eyes shut tight, and body shaking with fear. He had been like that for nearly an hour, ignoring the soft laughs from the sailors that passed him. It was apparent that he was afraid of the water, especially with every splashing sound of the waves beating against the boat making the assassin cling to the wood even more. "You're acting like a cat, you know," Malik stated from his spot, laughing at the glare that his lover shot at him. He stood, and walked over to him, placing an arm on his shoulder, "Do you want to go inside? You won't be able to see the water that way," he said, calmly.

Altaïr nodded his head vigorously, only letting go of the mast to latch onto Malik's good arm, clinging to it for dear life. They stepped down some stairs heading below deck, and were surprised to only see a few women in the other corner of the room, sleeping soundly. He was half-glad of this for his assassin's sake, feeling a bit sorry for him. He stopped near a pile of hay, and some horses that were fenced in nearby, and sat down, allowing Altaïr to let go of him for a moment, then cling back onto his arm. "What made you so afraid of water, anyway?" Malik asked, yanking his arm free to wrap around Altaïr and caress his hair beneath his hood.

He was silent for a moment, then stopped shaking, lowering his head slightly. "I had just been sent for training, I was five at the time and my father didn't want to wait another moment longer to get me trained. My trainer's name escapes me, but he worked with medicine a lot, and dragged me to distant lands to retrieve different plants and trade for rarer medicines we could not find near Masyaf. We were in a northern land, crossing a frozen lake with a guide, when the ice collapsed beneath my feet. I couldn't swim, so I struggled, water invading my lungs as I cried out for my master to help. He stood on the edge, and I swear I could hear him telling me to find a way out or just die. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the more I clung to the ice to try and get out, the more I'd slip and fall back into the water.

I was helpless. The guide was the one to pull me out, and questioned why my master did not help me if I could not swim. He never answered, but walked on ahead as the guide helped me get dry and warm again. That feeling of helplessness... It's never gone away. Every time I see the water, any time I am near it, I fear it. If that man hadn't helped me, my master would have let me drown, I would have died..." He trailed off, his grip on Malik loosening slightly as he leaned his head against the Dai's chest.

Malik didn't know what to say. Of course he knew that it had to be something along the lines of almost dying to make him fear the water so much, but this? A five year old expected to swim without knowing how to, let alone trying to get out of a hole surrounded by ice? That was just cruel. He held Altaïr close, not willing to let him go, caressing him to help calm him down. "I'm not going to let you drown," he finally stated, watching as the assassin lifted his gaze to meet the Dai's "I promise."

Altaïr shivered slightly and looked up at Malik once more, not daring to speak for a moment, then sat up ever so slightly, "Malik, what did you do to the Apple?" he asked, curiously.

Malik's face blanched as he stared at the assassin dumbfounded, "You think I lost it?"

The taller man blinked and waved his hands in front of him, nearly flailing, "No no! I'm simply asking where you put it! I'd never think you'd lose it!" he stated quickly, hoping that Malik wasn't angry with him. As the Dai smiled, Altaïr frowned, now catching on to the joke. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, handing it to him to check it. The assassin rolled the apple in his hand and nodded, looking back up to the other timidly, "I'd never accuse you of losing it, Malik."

"Novice, can't you take a joke?" he laid his head back to stare up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh, "I sure hope that this boat ride passes by fast..." he grumbled.

Altaïr smiled lightly and slipped the Apple back into Malik's pocket, earning a raise of a brow, but nothing was said. He sat back again once more, leaning against him as he listened to his breathing.

"I'm sorry that I let Maria take him..." Altaïr lifted his head to look at him, shaking his head, "It's my fault..."

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead, and we wouldn't be here."

Malik's brow's furrowed "Here? Doesn't make me feel any better..."

"Maria won't kill Maj, I know that much. So in a way, everything that happened is piling into place like a puzzle that is being solved. I would like to find out why our master betrayed the creed. I would like to know why Maria betrayed my trust..."

"Al Mualim is no master of mine. Nor will I tolerate you calling him so."

Altaïr fell silent again, his head lowering. Malik shook his head, grabbing his chin with his hand, making him face him, and crushed their lips together, roughly. "If you want..." Malik murmured between kisses as he pulled back then crushed their lips together again, "You can call me master."

Altaïr's cheeks turned red as his imagination flashed an image in his head. He wrapped his arms around the Dai's waist, pulling him close, pulling him into his lap, "More like I'm your master, brother."

Malik's slipped his tongue to the assassin's lips almost pleading for entry as Altaïr opened his mouth, greeting Malik's tongue with his own. Forgetting of his injuries, Altaïr laid back, pulling the other with him, and hissing as his back hit the surface of the floor.

"Oh, Altaïr, your back," Malik stated, scrambling off of him, and pulling him up.

Altaïr half laughed and shook his head slightly, "Almost forgot about that..."

Malik lightly smiled, "It's probably for the best... If we are caught we could be thrown overboard, I don't know what the customs are for the Christian religion, but I can't imagine it being any different from our own.."

"Your religion," Altaïr corrected, yawning softly as he curled up next to the Rafiq.

They both were silent as Malik began to ponder. What was his religion? Allah was his to keep as his lord... correct? He shook his head lightly, not really knowing anymore. What they were feeling for each other couldn't be wrong, not when it felt this right. He rubbed his goatee with his hand as he thought, only to be jerked from his daze with the sound of Altaïr's soft snoring. He smiled, and slowly wrapped his arm around him, careful around his back as he slipped him down laying his head against Malik's thigh.

Running his hand through the other's hair, he knew it couldn't be wrong to love him. He smiled as he recalled a memory of when the two first really became friends..

_Kadar tripped flying forward on their training course, twisting his ankle in the process. He fought back tears as he closed his eyes, clutching his leg for dear life, as if that was really going to help his situation. Malik ran as fast as he could through the rough terrain of the course, trying to reach his little brother as fast as possible. Flying forward, he too ended up falling over in an attempt to reach his brother. He blinked feeling strong hands lifting him up._

_Altaïr smiled to him, then jogged over to Kadar, leaning over and checking his ankle. He allowed him to climb onto his back as he carried him up a flight of stairs, no doubt heading to the doctor that was inside. Malik followed him as fast as he could, keeping his eyes fixed on Kadar's back. Once they passed into a room, he stopped, only peeking inside to listen and see if his brother was going to be okay._

_"Just a small twisted ankle, you're going to be just fine," he heard the doctor tell him, and smiled with relief._

_Altaïr left the room and blinked seeing Malik looking guilty from his peeking. He smiled and stepped forward, heading back down the hall. "Thank you..." Malik said, following him, "For helping my brother."_

_The other stopped and looked back at him, still smiling kindly, "You'd do the same for me if I fell," he stated._

_Malik smiled and nodded his head, "I'm Malik A'Sayf," he stated._

_"And I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad," he stated._

_Malik almost blurted out that of course he knew who he was, he was the top swordsman in their group, but kept it to himself as they started to walk back to the course. From that moment on, Malik was always at the other Novice's side, supporting him as best as he could..._

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><p><strong>Review Responses<strong>:

Song Of The Midnight Wolf: I promise I will continue writing it to the end :) I just had a minor set back with college, but I will never just up and quit, I promise. I am glad that you are liking the story, and I hope you continue to :)

Muziie:xD Take that as you like? X3

Jcgurl201: She is a meanie poopie head that's for sure D: Glad you are liking the interactions between the two :3 I'll be sure to throw in more from time to time ;3

azurenaddou: Thank you for the compliment ^^ I am really pleased to hear you are enjoying the story. And don't worry, I plan to have them kiss and show affection to one another any chance they can get ^^

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><p><strong>Note<strong>:  
>I hope you like the little memory there, I just felt it was nice to have that after the bad memory that Altaïr had told. And sorry that this chapter seems a little... filler-ish? I guess would be a good word for it xD; I just couldn't see myself throwing them to Spain without a little this and that in the middle, more realistic that way? Maybe, lol.<p>

Also, I've already started on the next chapter, but on the 30th of October I'll be leaving out of state for about a week, so if I do not get a chapter in during that time you can expect one to be posted as soon as I get home. I say this only because I do not know if we have internet or not D:

Review~ Please :D It really makes me happy to know that you liked it, what you liked, what you didn't like, what I need to work on, and helps me to want to keep going with the story.


	15. Chapter 15

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 15

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><p>Spain was, in a word, glorious. Tall buildings, gorgeous countryside outside of the city, but Altaïr and Malik weren't there for pleasure, they were there for business. There was only one problem that stopped them the moment they stepped off the docks... Everyone spoke Spanish. True, it wasn't a shock, but neither of them knew a word and found themselves trying to use signs with their hands to try to communicate. It wasn't long till most of the people around them were brushing them off as if they were trash on the streets.<p>

"This is ridiculous," Altaïr scowled, plopping on a bench and shoving his hands over his face.

"We really should have thought this through... I should have known no one would understand us," Malik said, sitting down next to him, and looking around.

"Maybe there's someone out there that could act as a translator?"

Malik blanched and looked to his lover dumbfounded, "Really, Altaïr? Because I was under the impression that, that was what we've been doing for the last two hours."

Altaïr's shoulders slumped forward as he heaved a sigh. The two sat in silence, Malik observing a group of Spaniards who were chatting away without a care in the world. One stopped, and looked over to him, meeting his eyes. The others soon stopped speaking, and looked over as well, making Malik look down.

"Hola..."

Malik jumped looking up at the man he previously made eye contact with, "Um... We don't speak Spanish..." he said, trying to think of a way to show him what he meant.

"You come all the way to Spain without a translator, and without knowing a single sentence in Spanish?"

Malik blinked, "You speak-"

"Obviously."

Altaïr rolled his eyes and stood up, "Look, can you help us? It's apparent that we don't have a clue where we are going, and also apparent that we are helpless-"

"Why do you wear a hood like that? Got something to hide?"

The man grinned almost knowing, making the assassin step back slightly and raise a brow, "I have nothing to hide..." he stated slowly, earning a laugh from behind the man questioning them.

"You look a lot like that bloke that killed our captain, Malon Al Damon..."

Malik was the one to stand this time, standing in between them, "We don't want any trouble. His son was kidnapped, we came to find him and take him home, nothing more nothing less."

"William, wasn't there a kid on our boat?" a man asked from behind the one who was speaking.

"Ah yeah, now that you mention it there was. Feisty little kid, Maria sure had her hands full with that one..." he laughed lightly and looked back to Malik, "What'd the kid do to be taken? Steal food from her?"

The assassin growled slightly, stepping to the side so he was no longer behind the Rafiq "He didn't steal anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that witch took advantage of that."

The man frowned, his eyes narrowing as he pulled out his sword, "Don't you ever insult a lady of her stature like that again, or it will be your head," he warned, pointing the blade in Altaïr's direction.

The two didn't say anything, Malik only heaving a sigh, shaking his head, and Altaïr glaring daggers at the man, wishing that he could pull out his blade and kill him right then and there.

"Can you please just give us a break?" Malik asked after a moment of tension filled silence, "We are tired from our travels, and we'd just like to find the boy as soon as possible."

The man looked considerate for a moment, then sighed, sheathing his blade, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side, "What do we get out of it?"

Malik's lips thinned as he began to glare at him now, "We do not have anymore money to spare..."

"A duel!" one of the men piped up from behind him, "If you win against William, he'll tell you the information!"

Malik shook his head, "I have one arm, I'm at a disadvantage," he protested, earning a cough from Altaïr who nudged him slightly.

"Go on, Mal. I'm sure you can take him," he stated, a grin on his lips.

Malik blinked and sighed, holding out his hand to Altaïr, who took out his sword and laid it in his hand to hold, "If I die, I'm coming back to haunt you," he warned, earning a laugh from the assassin, and faced the man called William, his blade pointing towards him. "Rules of the duel?"

"No killing. Wounds are acceptable, just none fatal," William stated, earning a nod from Malik. "If you'd like, I can hold my free hand behind my back?" he teased.

Malik spit on the floor, and crouched his back forward slightly, glaring at him, "Just let your sword do the talking," he jeered back.

The duel was, for lack of a better word, pathetic. The Templar found himself on his behind in less than fifteen seconds, looking dumbfounded as Malik counter attacked his blow. The Rafiq raised and dropped his brows, handing the assassin his blade back, then crossed his arms, looking down at the other man almost bored-like. "So, the information we seek?"

William scowled, and slowly stood, brushing himself off. "If you want to find them, you'll need to find Robert de Sables," he started, not really telling the two anything they didn't already figure. "He's usually in the countryside whenever he comes around these parts. I'm sure you can catch up to them, they left not to long ago. Go down this alleyway, turn right and head forward till you hit the gates. Follow the worn path and you should run into them if your fast." He was about to turn when he looked to Malik's bad arm then back to meeting his gaze, earning a glare for looking there, "If your not fast enough... head down the path through the moutain pass, and through the village you run into. About a mile afterward you will find a fork in the road, take the right path and you should find Robert de Sables' villa."

The men turned, and walked off without another word. Malik chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought. "Let's go then-"

"That could be what they want, Altaïr. We could be walking into a trap. Just because we won the information doesn't mean it's valid. They are Templars after all..."

"Or we could catch up to them, save Maj and leave."

Malik blinked and watched as the other turned on his heel, leaving the Dai to stand and stare at his retreating back. He shook his head, and trotted after him, sticking close to him as he looked around them, feeling anxious as they headed out of the city they knew nearly nothing about.

The Dai was worried, there was no doubt about that. He didn't know where they were going except from what the other men had told them, and he didn't have a clue what was going to happen. Normally he had a map of the land allowing him to at least plan a little bit, but here he had nothing but the word of a guard. He shivered slightly, hugging his chest with his one arm, as he looked up to the taller man's back. Was Altaïr mad with him? His eyes shifted to the side. He felt tension, but he didn't know if it was directed to him, or only the worry of what might be happening to Maj. He lifted his hand and ran it though his hair, just realizing how bad he was in need of a haircut, but didn't dwell on the thought as he ran into Altaïr's back, falling backwards.

"What are you-"

"Look."

Malik blinked, standing back up and walking to his side and blinked. There was smoke coming from over the hill. He frowned and looked up to his lover, who had a serious expression plastered on his face. "Are we... to keep going?" the Rafiq asked, earning a nod from the other. He watched as he stepped forward and quickened his pace to a jog.

Malik wasn't looking forward to this. He wasn't exactly out of shape, but he wasn't exactly fit to do any sort of long distance jogging up a hill. But more so, he was sincerely worried. Whatever was burning over that hill, he prayed to Allah that Maj was not caught up into it.

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><p>It took them nearly an hour to make it to the top of the hill, but nearly half the time to sprint down it as they ran as fast as they could to the village below that was in flames. Altaïr took off into one direction, Malik in the other as they searched the village for any people that were caught inside the houses. Malik hadn't found any, but when he looked to check on Altaïr, he saw him carrying two women out to safety. He looked ahead and stopped dead in the streets, Altaïr at his side as they stared ahead of them near the exit of the village.<p>

Maj stood, over the body of Robert de Sables, a pained expression on the young boy's face. His right hand was shaking, the left holding a dagger. Tears started to stream down his cheeks as he dropped it, backing away.

"What...?"

That was all Malik could say. He didn't know what more he could ask, or even state. Did Maj really kill the man that Altaïr had failed to kill years before? He looked to the assassin, who ran forward grabbing Maj, who at first squirmed, but soon latched onto Altaïr, dropping the dagger as he sobbed into his chest.

"It's alright... You're fine," the assassin cooed as he rubbed the child's back, looking up to Malik who bit his lip, and walked over to the dead man, checking to see if he was really deceased.

He stood upright, and looked around. If Robert de Sables was here, Maria Thorpe must be close by, at least that's what he figured. He walked over to the two, and looked down at Maj, kindly. "Maj, where is your mother?" he asked. The boy looked up at him, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he sniffed.

"She left us at the boat..." he said softly, staring up at Malik with hurt eyes. The Rafiq really didn't have a clue at how to comfort him. He had a depressed look on his face that only read of betrayal, which Malik was sure to know plenty of. But to a child so young, he didn't know what more to say.

Altaïr seemed to be having the same problem, still rubbing the young boys back as he furrowed his brows, trying to decide if it was better to go look for Maria or just find a way home. He stood upright, pulling Maj up into his arms and holding him to his chest, letting him cry. He looked to Malik, as if wanting to ask him what they should do, but kept it to himself, knowing all to well that he probably didn't have a clue either.

"Would you like to go home?" he asked, looking back down at Maj, who simply nodded his head, hiding his face in his father's robes.

Malik nodded his head, and started to head through the still burning village. He felt bad for the people who lived here. They'd have to wait for it to burn down, then possibly rebuild, or move to another location. Such devastation shouldn't happen. He looked over his shoulder, seeing Altaïr cradling his now sleeping son with one arm. Their eyes met, and the assassin reached out, holding his hand to his lover, which Malik took and held with his own.

"How are we going to make it home?" Malik questioned.

Altaïr was silent for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders lightly, "We shall see..."

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><p><strong>Review Responses:<strong>

Song Of The Midnight Wolf: Thank you very much :) It means a lot to hear that you enjoy my writing. I do hope you continue too

Muziie: Haha, I'm glad :D

azurenaddou: Haha thank you for the compliment. And don't worry, the old master is long since dead, good riddance too xD

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

Alright, the next chapter will be uploaded after my return home. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review and tell me what you liked, didn't like, anything! I can take it, I swear :D


	16. Chapter 16

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 16

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><p>"How exactly are we going to bribe someone?" Malik hissed, trying to keep his voice down so not to wake Maj, who was sleeping nearby.<p>

"I'll just... pickpocket it," Altaïr murmured earning a sharp glare from the Rafiq. "Do you have any other suggestions?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No..." Malik answered slowly, looking down to the ground, "I just don't think it's a good idea. If you're caught, there's no way I can bail you out. I know nothing about this city, nor do I speak the language."

"I'll be extra careful then," the assassin stood, looking down to Malik, who stared up at him worried. "We'll be back in Masyaf as soon as we can. I promise," he said, leaning over and kissing him softly. The Rafiq nodded, reaching out and grabbing his arm before he could go, bringing him back down to kiss him again. It was enough to make the assassin regret leaving almost at once. But he knew he had to, and pulled back smiling to him, then turning heading out of the alleyway they took shelter in.

He studied the streets as he walked around. He had to find the perfect targets so he could assure getting big amounts. Hitting smaller targets would mean he would have to spend more time looking for even more money, which frankly he had no time to spare. Spotting a man with big clothes, waltzing around with his pouch on his belt, he smirked, sticking to the shadows as he stalked the man. His hopes were high for this man. If anyone dared to dress like that in his country, they'd sure to be rich.

Reaching out, he slipped it carefully from the man's belt and rushed off to the shadows and peered inside the pouch. Two coins. He frowned, looking off to the side, pocketing the money as he shook his head. Apparently the man only dressed rich, possibly to keep his snobby appearance. While glaring at the man's back, he looked about, spotting another man dressed nearly the same. He didn't have high hopes, but figured to try anyway.

As he got the pouch, and checked inside, he was relieved to find a bit more than the other had, but knew that he was going to need way more than a handful of coins, especially if they didn't speak Spanish.

After nearly two hours, the bag he had was filled with all kinds of coin. He trudged off to the alleyway, plopping next to Malik, who was asleep. Normally, he would have teased and scolded the other for doing so in a foreign city, but he didn't want to wake him. He looked about, forcing himself to stay awake as he watched the clouds overhead pass above in the night sky.

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><p>The sun was soon rising, and Altaïr lightly shook Malik, who groaned, looking over to him groggily. He looked to the color changing sky, and nodded getting up and picking Maj up, "How much money did you get?" he asked.<p>

The assassin pulled out the pouch and showed him, then put it away stretching, "Should be enough, I hope," he stated, earning a nod from the other. He took Maj from Malik, and looked to the boy as he started to wake up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"Morning," he grumbled, making Malik and Altaïr smile and reply "good morning" to the young boy. "Are we going home?" he asked.

"Yes. I got some money last night, we just need to find a boat departing for Acre, and someone who will be willing to help us out." The boy nodded and curled up against the assassin, still groggy.

The three headed towards the docks, Altaïr a bit groggy himself from lack of sleep, and Malik a bit nervous as they looked around at all the Spaniards walking around. Altaïr saw a man standing by a table, quill in hand as he wrote down something on a sheet of parchment. Deciding that it was worth a try, he walked over, clearing his throat as he got the mans attention.

"Acre?" The man said something in Spanish in his reply. Altaïr rubbed the back of his head, trying to think of what to say next.

"He's asking if you wish to go to Acre." Altaïr blinked and looked to the side, seeing William standing there, his arms crossed. He turned to look at the man and said something in Spanish, then held out his hand to Altaïr as the man replied. "Money," he stated to Altaïr who handed him the pouch. The man took some coin from the pouch and handed it to the man, then took two of them for himself and handed it back to the assassin. "Two for translation. The boat leaves tomorrow at dawn. Be here before then and this man will get you aboard. I'll be aboard that boat as well in case you need a translator again..." his eyes drifted over to Malik, who had been eying him, warily. "As for you, While we are aboard, I want a rematch," he stated, turning on his heel and leaving.

Malik looked to Altaïr, who shrugged and walked off to the side where a bunch of barrels were laid out. He sat next to one, and listened as his stomach growled, his son sitting in his lap looking around at all the different people on the docks. "We should find some food," Malik stated, watching as the assassin's head nodded slightly as he was falling asleep, "I'll find food then," he stated, softly, reaching out and taking the money pouch. "Maj, watch your father, will you?" he asked, earning a vigorous nod from the boy. He smiled and turned, leaving the two, to search for food.

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><p>Dawn came quickly, the three meeting the man they had paid the day before. He led them onto the boat, and led them to a room under the dock where he opened the door and let them go inside. It seemed to be a private room, which surprised Malik and Altaïr. They turned to thank the man, but the man just bowed, and left them alone, closing the door behind him.<p>

"I don't know how much money you managed to steal the other night, but it must have been a lot for us to land a private room on a cargo ship, food, and still have some left over," Malik stated, looking around the room.

Altaïr nodded in agreement, setting Maj down and sat down on the bed, looking to the young boy, "Are you happy to be going home?" he asked, smiling as the boy nodded his head, smiling back.

"I am glad that I get to go home with you and Malik. Is you going to teach me to be an assassin?" he questioned, bouncing where he was sitting, smiling a wide toothy grin.

"I think that that can be a definite possibility," he replied making the younger boy jump up and down with joy.

"I had a feeling..." Altaïr and and Malik looked to the door, seeing William standing there, his arms crossed as he looked to them almost sternly. "You are Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, aren't you?" The assassin was tense, but he nodded his head in reply. "I thought so."

"Are you going to try and kill us, then, Templar?" Malik hissed, standing stiffly as he glared at the other man.

William shook his head, "No. I haven't been a Templar for a few years now, to be honest. Just traveled along with them, looking out for myself. I don't really agree with anything they say anymore. They teach you one thing, then turn around and try to teach you something else that is contradicting, trying to lead you to become a mindless servant with no feelings."

Altaïr and Malik looked to each other, a bit surprised, but looked back to them man again. "Is this why you helped us?" Malik questioned. The man simply nodded in reply. "You have a motive for helping us, don't you?"

William laughed and smiled, "Of course. I want in."

"In?" Altaïr questioned raising his brow.

"Yes, assassin. I want on your side. I want to defeat the Templars and their hypocritical organization. I want them to stop teaching such beliefs, and to just fade away as if they never existed."

Malik furrowed his brows, bringing his hand to his chin, "I don't know..."

"I'll stay by you and prove my worth. I promise you, I am not as useless as I made myself seem. I underestimated you, sir, and I won't ever be doing that ever again," he stated, looking to Malik.

"Fight me for real this time, then," Malik growled, holding his hand out to Altaïr, who handed him his sword.

"I intend to," William stated sternly, "But wait until we get a bit away from land. I don't want to be thrown overboard due to interrupting the crew," he stated, looking to Maj who was sitting on the bed, looking between all the men interested. "You should be thanking your son for this room, the only reason why you got it is the dock manager didn't want to see a kid being exposed to the roughness of the crew," he smirked and looked to Altaïr, "Though, since his father is an assassin, I'm sure he is exposed to violence all the time."

Altaïr said nothing, and watched as William waved his hand, turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Malik scoffed plopping back in a chair as he eyed up at the assassin, who looked more grim than anything else. "I don't trust him," the taller man exclaimed.

Malik nodded his head, "Nor do I..." he sighed, "But I suppose he does deserve a chance for helping us twice..." Altaïr nodded and sat back down next to Maj.

"You're being awfully quiet, are you alright?" he asked, picking his son up and putting him in his lap.

"Just sad..." Altaïr blinked, his brows furrowing together, worried at the fact that his attitude had changed from happy to sad so drastically. "I miss when mama didn't hate me..."

"She doesn't hate you," Malik chimed in before the other had any chance of opening his mouth, "I believe that she thinks she is doing what is right for you, and doesn't realize that it's actually hurting you," he stated, earning a slight nod from the boy, who leaned back against Altaïr, slumping forward slightly. "Parents... sometimes do that."

"Will I ever see her again?"

Altaïr shrugged lightly, "You might. There's no real way of knowing these things. All there is, is the hope that you might see her again someday."

Maj didn't seem happy about this answer, but didn't say anything, curling up in his father's lap, "Least I have you, Baba," he whispered softly, closing his eyes.

Altaïr opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, not really knowing what he should say. He looked up at Malik, who shook his head, not really knowing what to say either. Neither of them had really been exposed to children before other than the brief meetings that Altaïr had with Maj as he grew up. They simply stayed silent, looking to each other, awaiting when William wanted to commence his duel against Malik.

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><p><strong>Review Responses:<strong>

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><p><span>Song Of The Midnight Wolf<span>: I'm glad =] Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well :D

azurenaddou: xD Glad you liked that. And yeah, like father like son, Maj will become a great assassin x3

Izzey24: Thank you for the compliment. I hope you continue to like how this story goes :)

LuffyMarra: Anything like that would be tough on any child D:, also thank you ^^ Glad you are enjoying the story

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

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><p>Sorry that took so long to get this out (And that it's a tad bit shorter than normal). I save all my files on my thumb drive on my keys, which my brother took hostage of without telling me. I freaked out basically all day today thinking I left my keys in Virginia, only to get a call a few hours ago by him letting me know he'll drop them off tonight. Needless to say I freaked out for nothing x.x;;<p>

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and as a side note if you read my Blue Exorcist story, the next chapter will be up either later tonight (unlikely) or tomorrow (more likely) since I have to re-write it due to a stupid saving error on my part.

Please review, every review helps me improve~


	17. Chapter 17

Efflorescent Feelings

Chapter 17

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><p>A full day passed where the three were away in their little room. Malik was losing his interest in the idea of fighting the ex-Templar, William, and Altaïr was beginning to feel anxious at being cooped up with nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling. Maj was perfectly content with amusing himself by sprinting around the room, pretending he was attacking a random target and killing them: something he did all to much in the years he was with his mother.<p>

"Mal?" Malik blinked, looking up from his hands as he looked to his lover, who was sprawled out on the bed opposite from himself, hands folded on his stomach his thumbs twirling idly in a lazy circle. "What's going to happen when we get back to Masyaf?"

The former Dai was a bit confused by his question, but he shrugged answering as best as he could: "You were already named Master Assassin once again. Despite your blunders in the past, the men look up to you," he paused and continued before Altaïr could protest, "They don't show it, but every time a man would walk into my bureau they'd compare their fighting styles, the way they did everything to you. You inspire the men almost as much as you inspire me, and if you took control over the assassins you will complete great things."

There was a knock at the door, William entering as he looked between the two, the boy now sitting down at the base of Malik's bed, looking around as if he was bored of the conversation that had been taking place but was also trying to be polite. "Am I interrupting something?" the man questioned, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they hit Altaïr.

"Of course not," Malik stated, not noticing the almost glare that the other man was giving his assassin. "Are you ready for our duel?"

"Yes, that is why I am here," the man stated, nodding his head twice, "Come with me, I cleared it with the crew and they will not be in our way."

Altaïr passed Malik his blade, which he took in his hand staring down at it as if silently communicating with it. He looked down at the feeling of Maj's hands on his side, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Good luck, Malik," he said with a wide grin.

The ex Dai smiled back and nodded his thanks, looking up to Altaïr, who was looking troubled as he stared at a crack in the floor. "If he does anything to harm me, you could always jump in and avenge me," he said, more trying to cheer the other up than call himself weak.

The assassin's eyes drifted to him, before he gave him a smile and nodded his head, "You won't be needing me," he stated confidently.

Stepping outside, Malik was greeted with stares from the crew members that had gathered to watch the duel. Noticing that he only had one arm, they looked to William questioningly, wondering what had gotten into him challenging a man with only one arm. This annoyed the ex Dai. Sensing his tension, the assassin walked next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear, "Ignore them. Beat him so you can prove your point and we can go back into the room."

Why Malik had thought that comment to be drenched with a sexual hint was beyond him. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, looking to the man who challenged him, and glared. "Ready to be beaten?"

"Ready to become the beater, not the beaten," William cooed back, confidently, pointing his sword to the one armed man, smirking.

As Malik raised his blade in return, he was not expecting the other to lash out so quickly. "When you start your training," the Dai muttered as their swords slid together, hilts hitting, "You will learn not to be the first attacker. It leaves you open," he pushed him back slamming his sword against the other's leaving William baffled for a split second as he marveled at the other man's strength.

Swords clashed back and forth, skidding from impact on both sides, and huffs of breath, battle war cries were coming from the ex-Templar as he began to loose his focus in his want to beat the other man. When Malik knocked the sword from Williams hand, all the other could do was drop to his knees, panting and staring up at the collected man, who handed Altaïr his sword back. "What are you?" he asked, over the cheers from the sailors and other passengers.

"Just a simple Jerusalem Rafiq," Malik answered, turning his back to the other as he headed back to the room.

Altaïr stepped forward, offering his hand to William, who took it gratefully. "You have an amazing partner, Altaïr," he stated, looking up to the taller man, who nodded his head.

"I know. I could not ask for a better man to be at my side."

Altaïr meant that, in both meanings. He walked into the room, looking about for his lover, blinking as he didn't see him at first glance. "Mal-" he was cut off feeling his arm being yanked to the side, his body being pressed against the Rafiq's, who clung up to him. "What about Maj... if he sees us-"

"This is nothing..." Malik stated, reaching up and capturing the assassin's lips in his own. Altaïr couldn't resist, not Malik's lips. He didn't care who, at this point, walked in and saw them. At the sound of the door being closed by Malik's foot, the assassin grabbed Malik's waist, dragging him over to a bed and pushing him down, crawling over him. "Now who's concerned?" Malik teased, earning a tender bite on his neck making him gasp.

"It's been days..." Altaïr breathed on the other's neck, making his eyes flutter slightly.

"It's been weeks, Altaïr" the ex-Dai corrected, the assassin grunting in response as he pressed his lower half between the other's legs. "We can't here, brother..."

The assassin let out a whimper, clinging to Malik's sides as he licked his way up the curve of Malik's neck. "When we get back..." he warned, the ex-Dai half laughing in return.

"You're just like a wolf," he mused, the other looking to him confused, a brow raised, "I'm the lamb and you are the wolf. You are told no, but you keep coming back craving my taste."

"Lambs don't taste good," Altaïr mumbled in return, licking over Malik's Adam's apple, "Your taste is divine... any god would sell out their powers to taste as you..."

Blushing, the Dai looked away, "I wouldn't go that far," he grumbled, gasping as he felt his lovers hand cupping his groin. "_Not here_," he hissed, grabbing at Altaïr's hair and pulling his head up to his again, "Just... kiss me."

Altaïr let go of his hold of Malik, reaching that hand up to rest on his chest, instead. He leaned down, and tenderly kissed the man underneath him. The assassin then rolled off of Malik as quickly as possible at the sound of the door opening.

"Baba? What were you doing to Malik?" Maj asked, walking inside and closing the door behind him.

"Malik was choking... and I was... trying to stop him from dying..." Malik shot Altaïr a glare, earning a cheeky grin in return.

"Are you okay, Malik?" The boy crawled in bed with them, laying between them, looking up at the ex-Dai, concerned as he latched onto him.

"I'll be fine, you're father saved me," He answered back, nearly laughing at Altaïr, who was pouting due to the space between him and Malik.

"A Sailor told me we only have two days left," Maj looked to his father who groaned as he rolled over on his front, burying his face in a bundle of blankets. "Baba?"

"He's just homesick is all," Malik stated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Two days? They waited this long, if two days was all they had left, it wasn't much to wait at all. "You hungry, Maj? I think I saw a place on the ship that had a bushel of apples." the boy nodded his head vigorously, climbing over the one-armed man and sprinting out the door. "_Fix _yourself..." the Rafiq whispered, leaning over and kissing the back of Altaïr's neck, before standing up and following the boy out the door, closing it behind him.

Fix himself? Altaïr rolled over and groaned, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't really want to fix himself, not without Malik anyway. He bit onto his finger, looking around the room for anything that could possibly distract him. The room was very dull, very bland. But what more did he want from a free room in a ship to Acre?

Sitting up, he sat Indian style looking down at his hands. His hands that were stained with invisible blood, they seemed so normal other than his missing finger. He slipped off his hidden blade, letting it drop off to the side as he studied the lines on his hands. How did he get in this mess of a life, anyway? His father was a great assassin, Al Mualim had told him this countless times, and also told him that he fit his shoes perfectly. No, he did not regret his life. It was the only life he had ever known. But why now was he beginning to doubt his life? Why now was everything crashing down on him like a ton of bricks?

He pulled off his shoes and let them drop with his gloves and blade, how long had it been since he had looked over his body this much? He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, studying each bumpy and smooth surface upon them. He wasn't much different than other people, other than the fact that he was a skilled killer and fighter. What was the point to all this? '_The Templars... They need to be stopped._' he nodded his head and looked off to the side once more, '_But can I really do all of this? There will be more... more in the future, ones I will not be alive for. But how can I help?_' His brows furrowed as he laid back in the bed, his eyes drooping slightly. '_I need to find a way to do so..._'

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><p>Malik blinked as he felt the bed shift. It was the dead of night, and he had thought everyone in the room was asleep. As he peered at the assassin grinning next to him, he could see he was gravely mistaken. He blushed as he felt the other's hands on his abdomen and raised a brow as he scooted closer. "What about Maj?" Malik whispered, groaning very lightly as he felt the other's hand lower.<p>

"He's a hard sleeper, even so, we can be quiet," he stated, kissing Malik's cheek as he slipped his hand in his pants. The Rafiq bit his lip, huffing softly as he felt the other's fingers curl around his now growing erection.

"Altaïr," The smaller man whispered his name as he rolled over on top of the assassin. Altaïr grabbed at Malik's shirt, pulling it off as he leaned up, licking tenderly at his lover's nipple, making the other squirm lightly in an attempt to keep his moan to himself. He reached down, stroking at himself as he felt the other's hand's leave him, reaching behind him as he slipped his index and middle finger inside him. "Oh, Allah..." he leaned down, pushing the other back as he forced him into a kiss in an attempt to drown out his moans.

The taller man pumped his fingers inside him, stretching him out as he added a third finger. Their tongues slid together in a tango for dominance as Malik reached into Altaïr's robes pulling out his cock and sliding forward, teasing the other man as he ground down against him. "F-fuck," Altaïr whispered out, pulling his head back to nip at Malik's shoulder and suck it. "It...it might hurt," the assassin warned as Malik teased him with his hole by pressing it against his member.

"I don't care..." Malik whispered, pressing down against him, holding him still with his hand as he slid down onto the other. His cheeks went red at both pain and pleasure as shock pains shot up his spine in an attempt to warn him to stop what he was doing. Altaïr leaned up once again, causing a tear to fall from Malik's eye at the movement. He felt kisses against his temples in an attempt to distract him. He shook his head, reaching up and grabbing his lovers chin, crushing their lips together hastily.

It was only a matter of moments of tongues caressing each other, Malik's fingers playing with the base of his lovers hairline, but to the both of them it was as good as heaven. The Ex Dai groaned against the assassin's lips as he started to move his hips, moving the other inside him. Altaïr nipped at the other's lips in an attempt to lower the sound of his moans, placing his hands on his hips and helping him thrust up and down.

"I love you." Altaïr blushed, grunting softly as he lowered his head, kissing at Malik's neck tenderly.

"I don't think you'd let... anyone do this if you didn't," the assassin groaned in the ex Dai's ear, panting softly as he bucked up into him. Malik grabbed onto the others shoulders, moving up and down faster, he bit down on his lip hard, trying hard not to moan out, Altaïr scooted forward laying Malik down on his back thrusting into him, the ex-Dai clinging to Altaïr's back, panting.

"Al...Altaïr," Malik panted out, squirming as Altaïr took Malik's cock in his hand and pumped. He timed his strokes with his thrusting as he thrust harder, making it harder for Malik to keep quiet. "I'm... close... ah..." he bit down on the other's neck, closing his eyes tight as he attempted to hold back.

"I am too," the assassin panted huffing as he started to slow. "You don't have to hold back..." he bit his ear softly, thrusting up hard.

The hard thrust was all it took for Malik. He gasped out, clinging harder leaving nail marks on his lovers back as he hid his face in Altaïr's neck, juices spilling out from his member as he struggled not to scream out. A few thrusts later, the assassin thrust forward once more time, climaxing inside his love collapsing next to him, panting.

The two were silent, Altaïr holding Malik close as they caught their breath. He opened his eyes at the feeling of the ex Dai pressing his face against his chest, and smiled, peering down at him, brushing his hair out of his face. "I need a haircut..." Malik grumbled, making Altaïr laugh softly.

"That's the first thing you can say after that?" Malik opened his eyes and looked up at the other, smirking.

"Would you prefer me to just fall asleep on you?"

"No, I suppose not."

* * *

><p>"Wake up." Altaïr groaned, rolling on his front as he heard Malik's voice. "Altaïr, we are nearly there. Get dressed and come to the dock."<p>

It took a few minutes, but the assassin reluctantly got up with the help of his son and his lover. He didn't know why but he was feeling extremely tired lately. He narrowed it down to it being because of him being stuck on a boat with no where to go for a few days. He trudged out of room, stretching and rolling his arms as he looked out at the horizon that was Acre. "It's good to be back home," Malik stated, earning a nod from the assassin who looked over to him.

"I've been thinking... It's going to take a lot of work to build up these assassins, and to trust them to carry out our work after we are gone..." Malik blinked, looking to his lover, confused, his brows furrowing together. "If you don't want to... Just say the word. I'm not going to force you." Malik's mouth opened slightly, then closed as he bit his lip. The silence between the two only made the master assassin more nervous that his assumption was correct.

"I'm not going anywhere, brother..." Malik let out a half laugh, "And to have you thinking I wanted to go off and do something else... It's rather insulting." He placed his hand on Altaïr's shoulder, "You aren't getting rid of me."

Altaïr smiled very slightly as he refrained from taking the other's hand. He looked down, noticing Maj jumping up and down as he tried to see over the railing of the boat, smiled wider and grabbed his son, picking him up so he could see. He looked behind to see William behind them, looking over Acre. He smiled to their new recruit, knowing that he was not the only one they were going to have to train hard to teach them the ways of the Creed.

But everything, in the end, he knew was going to be worth it. The Templars would be defeated. He would find a way to see it possible, even if it was a thousand years down the line, he would see it happen.

* * *

><p>The End<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

-First off, I'm sorry, SO VERY SORRY, for the abrupt ending. I was trying so hard to make it more... less... abrupt? But every other idea and ending I came up with read sequel all over it, something I don't want to tease out since I don't very well know if there will be one, or not.

-Second...Who got ACR? :D I've been playing it non stop since I got it when Gamestop opened on the 15th xD; I love it. Though, has anyone else noticed when you play Alty it is easier to fight than with Ezio? I mean I know Ezio is old and stuff, but come on D: (and they changed Alt's voice actor... which mmm xD; )

-I also apologize for the delay with this chapter. I was playing through the game, looking for anything I'd like to add from the game into the story before I ended it here, but then I remembered the small fact that this is only fiction, it can have mistakes in it, and be whatever it is the author wants it to be.

I really want to thank everyone who had stuck through this story till the end, especially the ones who kept reading even through that minor dry spell in between updates. I don't know when I'll put out another AC fic that will be longer than a few chapters, but when I get another idea as big as this, I hope to see you all there!

Until next time~!


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